The Beast of Gremory
by Mudsaur
Summary: "Strive for the Throne of God and you shall have it."
1. Do You Dare to be God?

PROLOGUE: DO YOU DARE TO BE GOD?

_There is a rumor about the seat atop the tower_

_They say its owner has left and took with him all his power_

_The loyal don't see their father has left them all alone_

_With nothing but sweet airs and a hollow throne_

_Their eyes held blind to the truth of their lost king_

_Such a void, so barren, that even choirs dare not sing_

_But do not despair_

_Perhaps your intent might be to sit upon his chair_

_But first, there is something you must be made well aware_

_The path to the top is not for the weak…_

* * *

_The Underworld._

_A world believed to either lie below what is deemed the 'human world' or is in fact a world beyond the dimensional ties of 'Earth.' This theory has been given great thought by great factions of life and separate mythology. The Underworld is roughly the size of the human world, except for its absence of large bodies of water, such as oceans. Rivers and lakes appeared frequently across the vast expanse of land that made up the Underworld, to be certain, but all traces of oceanic life seemed to have evaporated many millennia ago. Regardless, vast amounts of flora and fauna were prevalent on the surface. This is, ironically, a subject of controversy amongst humans, who have spread ill-informed rumors about its makeup being that of fire and brimstone._

_It would have been humorous if it weren't said with such harshness._

_Life grew, expanded and, with some, developed sentience from this deemed Underworld. The most prevalent of these races was that of the race that would be called 'the Devils.' Of important note, this race was not originally called 'Devils' in their creation. Their original name was lost to history, as gradually those of other natures and races began to call them as what they are known to today and the 'Devils' accepted their new title with enthusiasm._

_The Devils were very much human in appearance (or, depending on whom you ask, the humans were very Devil in appearance). Four limbs, bipedal, five fingers and toes, complex immune systems, sexual dimorphism and so on. If one were to stand a group of humans and Devils together, side-by-side, it would be a surprise if he or she managed to tell one apart by appearance alone._

_Aside from humans, however, Devils were unique in how they separated themselves from humans. Devils held immense amounts of strength, speed, stamina, high magical influence and – over time – the ability to fly. Even their intelligence and innovation seemed to be above those of humans in the early ages. Whether it was evolution or some mythical force that might have been the cause behind such advancements in the Devil race, but it was undeniable that the average Devil held vast amounts of power over an average human._

_These superiorities only grew, with many developing strange abilities singular to a family or race. And once discovery of the human world became known to the Devils – which they were capable of traveling back and forth from with the use of techniques they developed between the two realms – that is where the most well-known of tales between the Devils and the humans began._

_Devils discovered the humans; discovered their dominance over the creatures that had only begun to develop into a race of some note. To the Devils, they only saw a species that might have been of some use in advancing and continuing their prevalence in the world – now worlds._

_Among these great conquerors of humans, there stood the great generals of Devils. Lucifer, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Asmodeus; these Devils, known as the Four Great Satans, stood at the top of the food chain, leading the proud 72 Pillars of the Devilkind in the hopes of conquering this new world as their own._

_The fate of humanity might have ended as quickly as it had begun. Few could stand against the onslaught of Devils. Those who attempted to press against the Devils died. It was a message that their invasion was not to be challenged._

_Those were dark days in human, forgotten history._

_It was amongst the enslaving and the conquering and the death that the Devils became known to others. Others who would shake the foundation of Devil and humankind for millienia to come. They were known as the Angels._

_Angels – the originators of Heaven; their home. Angels were powerful, winged beings, similar, in fact, to the appearance of humans and Devils. They descended from the skies in blinding lights to prevent the increased empirical movements of the Devils. They attacked with powers that were formed with light and held strong capability in harming the Devilkind. Gifted by their Father, who is known today as 'God,' the Angels engaged the Devils in a war unlike any other; a war that would last for millennia to come._

_Those were the years known as the Great War. The Four Great Satans fell in battle. The 72 Pillars lost great strength. A faction of Angels, disillusioned with the perfection that Angelkind held themselves at, formed amongst the human realm and Devilkind – effectively named the Fallen Angels._

_No side was left undamaged. Their very foundations left them on the brink of collapse. It was by the judgement of these groups – officially known as the Three Factions – that the war could go on no longer. An uneasy ceasefire was forged; a stalemate to end the death and ruin of all worlds._

_No peace was made. Not yet. Too much bad blood between all groups involved._

_Now, what does this have to do with the story that will be told, you might be asking? Well, if you are still interested, perhaps this story of conflict, hardships, renewed life and perhaps, if you're lucky, even a little romance might tie up some loose questions you might ask._

_The story is that of a once-dead Naruto Uzumaki. His story lied before the Angel and Devils' conflict. Long, long before. His time passed, but now, it must start over again –_

_For the throne atop the tower must be sat upon again…_

* * *

In the vast cities of the Gremory Territory of the Underworld, the stone buildings and skyscrapers glowed beneath the moon in the night sky. The cities of Gremory House were proud monikers of their wealth and power. Several hexagonally formed cities could be seen all around vast forested areas, if one were to take a scenic route upwards and look down upon the amazement of the cities below. So perfectly lined with brightened roads and transit areas made it all seem like some gleaming snowflake amongst green grass. Without question, the House of Gremory's power was, as befitting one of the remaining original 72 Pillars, _undoubtedly_ an impressive sight to be viewed.

But this is not where the story takes place.

Just outside the territory of this metropolis of metropolises, two travelers - Sirzechs Lucifer and his Queen, Grayfia Lucifuge - made quickened steps towards an as of yet unknown destination.

Sirzechs Lucifer was a handsome man of young appearance. With shoulder length crimson hair, fair skin and blue-green eyes, his appearance was actually quite similar to those of the main family of the Gremory Territory. The reason being was that the man was a former household member before being appointed as one of the new leaders of the Devil race some time ago. He wore long, flowing robes of gold and silver that matched his stance and stature as that of a noble man. Truthfully, Sirzechs Lucifer might have been considered by many as the Devil King, if not for the shared position among three others of similar rank.

The woman beside him – Grayfia Lucifuge – was the beautiful beyond all doubt. Similar to Sirzechs, she seemed quite young in appearance, with thick silver hair that reached down her back in an elegant braid; matching eyes that gleamed even in the dimly lit forest; and fair skin as pale as the moon above – Grayfia was a woman of exquisite appearance.

But that was only her physical features.

In contrast to Sirzechs, Grayfia's desired dress was formal but hardly showed the Devil in any sort of position of power. A blue and white outfit, almost indistinguishable to those worn my maids in service to the human world's European states, was worn by her from head to toe. While certainly this was not the most unusual of dresses, and it certainly was modest by all accounts, the way she wore it along with the cool expression on her face made her seem almost similar to a doll.

Indeed, looking at the pair of Devils walking so far from the comfort of their fellow kind and not knowing their reputation or relationship, one might have assumed they were master and servant. And in a way, they were. Grayfia liked to do chores that would befit someone of her dress. She was the ideal professional when it came to being a maid. But there was something that separated her from just being any maid employed to Sirzechs Lucifer, one of the Four Great Satans of the Underworld and Ultimate Level Devil.

And that was because she and Sirzechs Lucifer were _married._

Indeed, the two were very much in love and very much husband and wife. Married after a war of conflict amongst the Devils, these two were the stuff of romantic tales and gossip. Their union was something that was none to dissimilar to the tales of Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_, though with a much happier ending.

Of note, their love was so well published and recognized throughout the underworld that even a movie was made based around their love -

But this is a deviation from current events.

Walking around tree and bush, with little light beside them except for a glowing orb of magic – courtesy of Grayfia, as was proper – the two made their way to a select destination.

Sirzechs smiled as his eyes followed the direction of the map in his hands. "We're close now," he whispered, "just a little further and we'll be there." Grayfia nodded, saying nothing and keeping her thoughts to herself.

This wasn't exactly how one expected to spend an evening. Especially a free one from the duties of being a Great Satan. The two had originally decided to come into one of the Gremory cities for a nice dinner and perhaps a show to spend the evening with one another. A standard, simple night. It would be nice, pleasant and perhaps with a little bit of enjoyment after the night was finished and over.

What she, perhaps, should have expected was her husband's innate ability to be sidetracked.

To make a long story short, they traveled through the market area that evening. Shop owners asked to purchase their 'mystic' goods in one form or another. Nothing exceptional could be seen by either of them so they simply enjoyed their presence, together.

Then came the peddler. "_This._ THIS! This's what you buy!" He shouted, running up to them both, holding the parchment her husband currently had great interest in. "Big grave! _Yes_. _Big indeed_. Very important. Important thing inside! Very important!" The peddler pushed the parchment into Sirzechs chest, surprising them both. Did the man not know who they were? "Five gold coin! Important, need coin to work! Find and you keep inside!"

So Sirzechs purchased the parchment. "Well," he said, smiling to his confused wife as the peddler giggled madly to the side, "how do you feel about a treasure hunt?"

She didn't mind, of course. She was proper that way. She enjoyed her husband's enthusiasm, even when he claimed that it wouldn't have been much of a challenge if they simply teleported or even flew to the location. No, he needed the walk, he said, so now, here they were, in the middle of the forest, chasing a hoax of a map to a location neither were familiar with.

It was to Sirzechs' excitement and Grayfia's surprise when, upon reaching the location pointed on their 'map,' the two actually came onto something…_unusual._

It wasn't so much a grave, as the peddler called what they would find. Rather, holding itself high in the center of the small clearing, was a large _tomb _of sorts. Big, gray and made hard stone, it stood tall in front of them. Its doors closed and appearing to not have been opened for quite a long time, Grayfia marveled slightly at the structure.

It was very _old_. Just looking at it, she could tell it was older then perhaps even Lord Gremory – her husband and lord's father. Even graves made out to ancient Devilkind weren't as simple as the stone structure in front of the pair. With any other grave or marker, there would be some indication of what was the purpose of the work or to which family or territory it belonged to.

This tomb was nothing. No markings or symbols. Just placed stone.

Sirzechs was shaking. "I'm gonna check it out!" He raced towards the two stone doors that led down into the tomb, looking them over before starting to give them a push.

Grayfia walked over to him, bringing the light orb. "My lord, do you believe this wise?" She wasn't one to question him but this seemed eerie. A monument like this, so close to Gremory Territory, undiscovered? "This feels," she tried to find the words, "_uneasy._"

"Oh, come on!" Sirzechs continued to push the doors apart. It required more effort than he thought two doors made of only stone would require. "Where's your sense of adventure?" To humans, grave robbing or entering a tomb such as this might have been a bad taboo.

Not to Devils, though. They were creatures of _passions _and_ desires_. This untouched tomb screamed to be explored from the usually well-kept Lucifer.

With a final push and the shaking of some loose dust, the doors were finally opened. The doors opened to reveal a stone staircase leading down to somewhere unlit by even the moon or the light orb. Dust and cobwebs were prevalent as far as they could see.

Sirzechs smiled, looking back to his wife. "I'll be back before you know it!" He said, waving his hand as his own version of a ball of light, red in color but still shining with light, formed at his side. "Just wait out here. I'll bring you back something nice!"

Then he descended, leaving Grayfia to watch quietly above.

* * *

Sirzechs did not consider himself a tomb seeker by any stretch. Most of his sense of adventure had been doused during the civil war between the Old Satan Faction and the Anti Satan Faction. Now his sense of enjoyment pertained to the idea of peace and continued prosperity of his Devilkind. He smiled every morning, knowing his kind would see another day, free from the former terror that their world might come to an end.

But that did not mean the work was done. Repairs were still being made from the two major wars that plagued the Devils. They could not afford to be weak or stand separate from one another. He had a job to do – a job of significant importance. But he realized soon into his new responsibilities as a Great Satan that, if he didn't take time to enjoy and relax around the company of others, the name of Lucifer would crush him.

That was why this new adventure enthralled him. This tomb was remarkably simple and fascinating to someone who believed he had seen every wonder of the Underworld. Where had such a treat been hiding, he wondered? And so close to his father's realm?

It was these thoughts that distracted him long enough to not notice when his foot tapped on a certain stone and a small 'click' was heard.

**SLAM!**

The walls around Sirzechs broke from their foundations and smashed into one another, effectively crushing Sirzechs and his ball of light. It was so sudden – _so quick!_ – Sirzechs had little time to do more than widen his eyes in surprise before being squished effectively between stone.

There was a quiet to the tomb. The trap's old machinations ticked to a stop next to the walls, their duty complete in stopping all trespassers.

Then a shaking around the walls could be heard. It slowly increased in volume and rapidity, showering dust around the empty staircase, before a fair-skinned hand busted out from the compressed-together walls.

The hand pressed forward. An arm followed. Then a torso. Then the rest of the body.

Sirzechs Lucifer, smirking and brushing off loose dust from his cloak, chuckled as his light orb followed him out of his makeshift hole. "This is fun!" He shouted to himself. "I wonder what else is here?"

Poison darts, pitfalls, animated stone statues, fireballs – Sirzechs smile only widened as he went further into the tomb.

It was amazing! This place was ancient and yet its workings and traps were still intact and functioning perfectly! Whoever built this place, built it to last. Sirzechs was not a man of architecture or trap making (being a Devil King took up far too much time to study such things) but he applauded the soundness and effectiveness of the tomb's defenses. Lesser Devils then he might have had quite the tough time with even some of the earlier defenses.

Eventually, however, there was a bottom to the madness of the narrow stairs.

Stepping out from the staircase, Sirzechs came to a large room of some sorts. Held up by a series of columns, the room was sculpted quite magnificently, with ridged designs and markings that were quite the contrast from the outside tomb's entrance.

But there was also something puzzling. The room was nearly empty. No treasures, no old weapons, no golds or jewels or anything of great value. The peddler had made it seem like some great objects could be found here. Indeed, the level of defense put into this place felt like a buildup towards some magnificent riches.

Instead, the only notable thing about the otherwise empty room was the sarcophagus at its center.

Naturally, this was a tomb. Naturally, there would be a place where the dead owner would be buried. So why this surprised Sirzechs was a wonder.

Walking to the sarcophagus, Sirzechs looked it over. Like the room, it was brilliantly designed. Flawless and preserved. The sides had strange writings on it, as well. This is what caught Sirzechs attention most of all.

It was ancient. The writing was most certainly ancient. The dust and cobwebs Sirzechs had to brush away to read what it said signified this. But it was a peculiar writing. Not because of what language or dialect it was – Sirzech's own mother had taught him ancient languages and writing since he was a child – but because of how simple it was.

This wasn't some ancient language. It was aged in appearance, appearing timeworn and lacking in significant upkeep, but by no means was it an archaic tongue. In fact, the words were spoken modernly. He'd seen them used even in recent years, just not so much by Devilkind. It was a language he had become familiar with, in part thanks to his Knight's fluency.

It was a human language called _Japanese_.

**HERE LIES NARUTO UZUMAKI**

**A FATHER**

**A HUSBAND**

**A LEADER**

**MAY HIS WILL OF FIRE NEVER BURN OUT**

Sirzechs read over the passage several times. What was a human-based writing doing in the Underworld?

The Great Satan placed his hand on the sarcophagus, mesmerized. This was a mystery now. One he wanted to see through.

Thus, without delay, he stood up, pressed his hands to the sarcophagus's lid, and lifted.

What laid inside was a marvel to behold.

* * *

A long time ago, the man known as Naruto Uzumaki lived and died.

All men die, of course. It was natural. But when the Seventh Hokage of the Village, Konohagakure, passed from the world, it left a chill in its place.

His story was a long one. Sparing the excessive details of a long, _long_ tale for another time, Naruto Uzumaki was a hero among heroes. An individual whom never gave in to evil or stepped away from doing what was right. A man who saw the best in people when they themselves couldn't see it. He fought wars, defeated gods and was held as a paragon for what people should aspire to.

He was remembered for his achievements and the connections he made. He unified a war torn continent and brought peace to what was once a chaotic world. He fell in love with a beautiful woman who always saw the best in him. He was the father to two wonderful children who loved him as he loved them. He made friends of enemies and redeemed the deemed irredeemable.

Naruto Uzumaki was a name that would be associated as 'hero' for centuries to come.

And yet he died, all the same.

He died old. He died with family around him. His wife had passed a couple years before and he wished to see her again. His country cried for his passing but he just smiled through it, telling them all he would see them again, soon. He left behind children, grandchildren and great grandchildren – all who, after his passing, would miss him dearly.

Naruto Uzumaki thought that his time had come and that was the end of his journey. Complete and fulfilled, he lived. So when he felt his life pass by him and as he closed his eyes one last time, he thought he was done. That a final peace would come to him.

But life is often not as it would like us to believe.

The moment he closed his eyes and felt the deep weariness pass through him, it hadn't felt like two seconds had passed before that feeling was ripped from him. And in that moment of elation, he opened his eyes again and saw only darkness.

He blinked.

His eyes roamed around him. He blinked some more.

His face scrunched up in confusion.

_This isn't right,_ he thought to himself. At least, he hoped this wasn't right. When he died, he expected golden fields, gates, long-passed family members around him and his beloved waiting.

This was just dark.

_Did I go to that other place?_ He hoped not. Sure, he might have not been a complete saint in his life, with his patented 'Harem Jutsu' being the first thing to come to mind, but that didn't make him evil, right? Just a kid/young man trying to understand and use the majestic nature of women for combat purposes. That wasn't evil, right?

The darkness didn't answer or change to a golden light for well over a minute. He guessed that meant 'no.'

_Crap. _He thought._ Hinata's gonna kill me_. If he had to bust some guys with horns and pitchforks to get back to his beloved, post-mortem, he was gonna be pissed. He was done with the whole fighting thing!

Okay, well, maybe not _done_ but he still got annoyed when his grandkids tried to sneak attack him, as old as they were around the time of his passing. He didn't have all the time in the world to kick whippersnappers like them onto their behinds!

And if he actually died…

_Kurama!_ He yelled, mentally. _Please tell me my head's not empty for the first time in decades!_

Kurama was a beast of energy, trapped into his body when he wasn't even a day old. Part of the longer story, mentioned above. The point being, the two were best friends since he was a young ninja. Confidants, even. When he passed, he expected Kurama to eventually reform from being an energy being in his gut to an energy being in reality.

He was fine with this. Naruto knew Kurama needed his freedom. But now, in the darkness, Naruto _really_ wished he could have stayed for at least a couple hours longer.

Come to think of it, how long had it been since he thought he died and woke up here?

He tried to see his arms or legs in the darkness. His body felt stiff; his arms feeling like they needed a good stretch. How long did it take to die and go to one of the 'select locations' permitted for dead people?

He opened his mouth to yell. No words came out. Just some high pitched squeal he was embarrassed by.

_Great. Even my voice is out of shape._ How was he going to get out of this one?

This thought didn't last him long, however, thankfully. He heard a scraping from his side.

Someone was outside of whatever dark box he figured he was in.

He tried shouting again, only managing a quiet squeal, again. He was sure the sound didn't reach out from whatever stone box he was trapped in.

Naruto tried to move around in the box and make noise. How big even was this container he found himself in? As far as he stretched, neither his feet nor arms could touch the edges. He was a reasonably tall man. Only his back, pressed to the bottom of his dark vessel, seemed to be feeling anything. Stone, as it were, which felt unpleasantly cold at the moment to what he was just realizing now was his naked back.

_I am alone. In the dark. And naked. How could this get any-_

Then the edges of the roof of his box creaked to the side.

_Finally,_ Naruto thought, squinting his eyes as a form of light crept through the crack forming above. _Get me out of here demon or angel or whatever._ Even if he had to fight his way to heaven, he was going to give whatever was out there one heck of a battle. Being aged like fine wine didn't mean you lost your edge.

Musings of battle and fighting out of wherever he was trapped inside of were soon waned by the pair of eyes staring down at him from the top of the box. A human with red hair was looking down at him, perplexingly.

The man blinked down at Naruto, as Naruto did the same to the man hovering over him.

_What, you want a picture?_ Naruto would have asked, grumpily, if not for the fact his voice wasn't doing more than weird squeaks. Maybe he needed some water. Being previously dead seemed to have left him parched in the throat.

The man continued to stare downwards to the previously trapped man, as Naruto watched an odd excitement come over his eyes.

"Hey there," the red-haired man cooed, giving Naruto a smile that might have come off innocent and friendly but only seemed to unnerve the former Hokage, "what are you doing here?" He asked, throwing the box's cover away and reaching his hands down towards the still lying Naruto -

\- who in response, started to freak. _Oh KAMI! He's one of those guys who gets off on old men, isn't he?!_ Not that Naruto would ever admit he was old, mind you, but that was beside the point.

Trying to flail his hands out to stop the perv from grabbing hold of him, he failed magnificently as the man scooped up Naruto quite easily. Naruto struggled against his hold as the man smiled to him. "Hey hey, it's alright. I got you, I got you." The man's tone was soft and soothing. Naruto agitation and discomfort grew.

_Letmego!_ Naruto tried to yell, only for his voice to come out as some mixture between a wail and a cry. _Crap! What is wrong with me?!_

This felt wrong on so many levels.

The man tried to soothe the tempered Naruto by rocking him back and forth. Naruto was thoroughly weirded now. _That's it! Your ass?! _**_GRASS!_**

Naruto threw his arm forward, reaching for the man face. It couldn't have been more than a foot away. Easy target.

His arm went forward, attempting to close the gap with a quick jab to knock a couple of teeth out and secure a distraction for a quick escape. It was simple, practical and didn't even come close to its intended target.

_Damn it!_ Naruto screamed inwardly, his voice still squeaking. _I'm gonna wipe that stupid grin off your stupid-_

Then he stopped. The screaming, the flailing, all of it. He stopped and looked with his two bright blue eyes at the hand he pointed towards his founder/man handler.

It was small. So, so small. Puny even. He'd seen hands like this before. Back only when his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren were born.

But that couldn't be right.

The man who held him reached over and placed his own hand over Naruto's. In comparison, his was giant. "See? Everything's okay now." The man was smiling brightly still. Naruto's eyes never left his hand.

Smooth, tiny and without calluses from years of training. No blemishes or age marks to be found. His skin was pink and smooth and almost glowed. And his fingernails – petite and sharp.

Naruto raised his other hand. Same deal. He tried to arc his head to look down to his feet but couldn't. He only managed to see a naked belly with the same pigmentation as his arms.

_Okay, hold on a sec! I need to think this through!_

_I keep making squeaky sounds!_

_My arms are small!_

_My skin is pink and smooth!_

_I'm being handled with care and affection!_

_And…AND…!_

"Who's a cute little guy? You are! YOU ARE!"

Naruto stared at him.

_I'm a f%&amp;ing baby._

* * *

Grayfia stood patiently outside the tomb as she waited for her lord husband to return. Despite the sounds coming from inside the tomb, which included several that seemed to shake the tomb's foundation violently, Sirzechs' wife had faith all was well. Time passed quickly as she stood attentively until the glow of a small orb of light coming up the stairway from the tomb became visible, followed shortly by Sirzechs.

And he didn't come empty handed.

Quirking a silvery eyebrow on her usually stoic and passive features, Grayfia walked calmly to her husband, who had his cloak wrapped closely around something in his arms. Looking past the cloth, she saw two large, bright blue eyes turn and stare at her.

She stared at the baby in Sirzechs' arms for a long, quiet moment. She stared at it, than up to her beloved.

His smile was sheepish. "Can we keep him?"

* * *

**Roughly 16-17 Human Years into the Future**

"_It's 7:00 AM!_

"_Are you ready to accept Phoenix Wright as your lord and savior?!"_

A hand reached out from underneath a thicket of bedcovers to smash down on an annoying alarm clock at the side. A loud grunt could be heard through the large apartment as a bushel of bright blond hair made its way from under the covers of the bed.

Exhausted and looking irritable, the blond haired owner of the hand stood up from his bed in a slouch. Scratching his bed hair loose, the blond made his way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen, stretching out tight muscles as he did so.

The blond attempted to blink out remaining levels of exhaustion as he pulled out a carton of orange juice and drank it straight from the lid. Though taught better than to do so, he had a busy night prior. He earned a little pass from common practices of standard living.

Once the carton was empty, he pulled his mouth away and offered a sigh of relief. Nothing beat orange juice.

Tossing the empty carton into a waiting trash bin, the blond casually walked to the window of his apartment; gazing out over the view of several houses, stores and the single high school building off in the distance.

The owner of the apartment smiled out to the view.

"So," he said to himself, "I wonder if Raynare's going to kill Issei today?"

He continued to stare out at his view for a while, before shrugging and turning back to his kitchen. He felt in the mood for waffles.

* * *

**To be honest, I have no idea why I wrote this. Mostly just to keep the creative juices flowing, I guess. Prevent writer's block.**

**Anyway, story has Powerful Naruto, Harem, Humor, Action, maybe lemon stuff, the works. Will try to deviate it from common Naruto/DxD stories, though. I prefer to keep my work unique, ya know?**


	2. What if God Was One of Us?

CHAPTER ONE: WHAT IF GOD WAS ONE OF US?

_The Underworld, Forested Area, Just Outside of Gremory Territory_

Perhaps a testament to the cool edge that was the lady Grayfia, her immediate reaction to the newborn staring at her, comfortably wrapped in her lord husband's robes, was to raise a single, silvery eyebrow in mild surprise. She had expected her husband to go into the tomb seeking riches or worthwhile items to bring back to the surface. Instead, he walked out with an infant in hand. Even for a Devil such as Sirzechs Lucifer, this was unusual.

Then he asked if they could keep it.

Grayfia was used to her husband's simplistic nature. The Great Satan Lord, who held the proud name of Lucifer, was a bizarre man to many, with his coupled passion and capability as a leader of Devilkind being balanced by his easygoing nature. Indeed, the Four Great Satans were an eccentric bunch in the typically well-mannered and collective Devil society.

Grayfia stared down at the child presented to her. The child – a boy, she guessed, based on his features – stared silently back to her. A small bushel of almost yellowish-blond hair; a slight pink tint to his otherwise pale skin; tiny lips and nose - these features were nothing uncommon or exceptionally eye-catching. In those regards, the child was like any other Grayfia had seen in her life.

But that wasn't what kept the Lucifuge woman's attention.

His cheeks were scarred. Three lines pointed outwards from where they pointed towards the boy's lips. Birthmarks, she might have guessed, but the marks were too perfect – too similar and perfectly alike – to be a case of simple skin irregularities. Reaching out with a single, smooth finger, Grayfia confirmed her suspicions when she felt the cheek marks offer some depth into the skin. They were peculiar but not the most dramatic aspect to the child's features.

Grayfia stared into the boy's eyes. They stared back at her. They followed her finger and looked over her face as the two tried to make out one another. The eyes weren't those of a child – they didn't hold that simplicity or straightforwardness newborn eyes usually held. Instead, the crystal blue eyes of the child seemed to, or attempted to, at least, understand its surroundings. This babe in her husband's hands was watching everything with a stern expression that made the boy seem like he was almost glaring.

Babies did not glare. They cried, whined, smiled, giggled, laughed, stirred in their sleep and occasionally held a blissful expression of uncaring to its surroundings. A newborn could not glare because a glare required emotions and negative feelings that it couldn't possibly have developed.

Yet here one was. Watching Grayfia with wary; looking like it would bite if she came too close.

Grayfia raised her head to look to her husband. Either he chose to ignore the abnormalities of finding this very stoic child inside of the decrepit tomb that seemingly hadn't been discovered for millennia as meer coincidence or he chose to ignore it. Based on his grinning expression, it was quite possible that either of the possibilities might have been the truth.

Sirzechs Lucifer was her husband. She loved him, fool and all.

Reaching out with her arms, she wrapped her hands around the bundle of clothing, taking the small babe. The newborn really was a tiny, weightless thing to the Devil woman. Having him in her arms, she supposed this was where most women would feel some motherly instinct towards the child put into their care. Instead, she watched as the newborn's eyes narrowed somewhat further.

This was a bizarre child, indeed. "Where did you find this little one, my lord?" She asked formally, wondering quietly if rocking the boy might assuage its tempered face. She doubted it.

Sirzechs watched the two quietly before answering. "I found him in the tomb."

"I assumed as much." Grayfia's calm, collective voice hadn't risen or sounded harsher than before, though her expression did show slight annoyance. "I meant specifically."

Sirzechs looked pleased at getting even a small rise from his usually stoic wife. "In the sarcophagus." He specified further, watching as Grayfia let one of her sharp, silver eyebrows rise towards her brow.

"Sarcophagus?" She wondered if she heard him right. Sirzechs nodded in reply, going into detail on his exciting 'adventure' into the bottom of the tomb. The untouched grave, the Japanese writing, the traps and defenses – Grayfia listened attentively to it all, holding back her questions until the end. "What was a newborn doing in such a place?"

This was mostly a musing to herself, but her husband answered her (sort of). "A good question! And one I intend to find out!" He said, turning away from the stone structure and making a wave of his hand out towards the grassy area. Out of seemingly nowhere, a large circle, glowing with vibrant crimson and decorated with various letterings and symbols, appeared before the two Devils. The infant, who was turned around in Grayfia's arms towards the strange runic symbols that appeared out of nothingness, widened its eyes.

"But for now, I suggest we save the questions for another time. It is quite late," he smiled, raising a hand and brushing it through the small tuft of blond hair the babe had, "and I think wittle Naruto wants to take a nappy!" The high-pitched, baby words coming from the Devil Ruler almost seemed to make the infant slightly irritated. Sirzechs figured he was just grouchy. Or tired. Or hungry. What did babies eat, anyway?

Grayfia, however, turned to her husband curiously. "Naruto?"

"Oh! Yeah, the name on the tomb was for someone named for an 'Uzumaki Naruto.'" Sirzechs informed, hoping his pronunciation was correct as the infant turned its attention away from the glowing crimson symbols on the ground and back towards his founder. "I figured it was a good name for him." It was a simple enough explanation to his reasoning. "Why? Don't like it?"

"I did not oppose." Grayfia stated, only being curious as to where such an unorthodox name had originated. Turning her head down to the newborn, the silver-haired woman said the name softly, testing it only for her own use.

"_Naruto._"

It was simply a means to test her tongue to such a unique word but found herself surprised to see the infant than turn to meet her gaze. It was a peculiar moment - the child did not seem as annoyed as it had before (though, how annoyed a small child could even seem to be was something of a question for later times). Grayfia was more curious: did it approve the name, perhaps? The idea was silly for a little one to even understand what was occurring but this blond child was silly in its own way.

So, turning her head back to her bright, cheerful husband, Grayfia merely finished her testing with a simple, smooth statement of her thoughts. "I do not object to the naming."

"Good! Then does that mean we can keep him?"

This managed to cause Grayfia's brow to furrow, along with the babe's. "My lord, he is not a familiar or _pet_ to be found or purchased. He is a _child_. You do not simply ask to keep such a thing."

"Then what do we do with it?" Didn't the rule of finders' keepers work here?

"We will consider that in the morrow. For now, let us see to his needs and ready for the day after."

Sirzechs shrugged, grinning as he stepped into the crimson circle beside his wife. "Alright. But if we are keeping him, I expect to give him a little brother!"

This was meant in jest. Grayfia wasn't aware. "That can be arranged." She glanced down to the babe in her arms as the child's eyes widened around the circle. Very peculiar, this child. Very peculiar.

Sirzechs' eyes quickly lost their sense of playfulness at his wife's last words before the circular ring of energy glowed intensely, blanketing the nearby trees and structure in bright light. Then, just as quickly as it came, the light dimmed and was gone, leaving the area unmarked and untampered by Devilkind.

The two Devils and the newborn were nowhere to be seen.

* * *

_Present day, Human World, Country of Japan_

Kuoh Academy – a former all girls private school comprised of several architecturally impressive buildings. Having turned into a co-ed facility in recent years, the impressive standards of the school's facilities, faculties and students only increased with additional male gender ratio. The school was jewel amongst the people who lived in the vicinity and was the location where many bright futures would certainly begin. Comprised of several academic levels of learning; a primary, high school and college division, the academy was often considered an extravagantly well-crafted university for all ages. The students wore impressively designed uniforms; kept an equally strong united background of kinship through sports, festivals and other school-funded activities; and were all expected to hold a level of excellence that befit Kuoh Academy's reputation.

On this particular day, the sun shone quite brightly over the arriving students for early morning classes. Of note, in a sharp contrast from normal learning facilities, most of the students seemed eager to begin their classes for the day. Each dressed to in professional uniform and walked with pride.

Standing at the gates leading into the academy, a young woman watched her fellow students carefully.

The young woman was in her late teens, holding a slim figure along with her average build and height. She wore the standard Kuoh Academy uniform, similar to her peers, signifying her status as a student. The girls complexion was smooth and flawless without so much as blemish; her hair was short and kept from her face using a single, yellow hairclip around her left ear; her deep violet eyes were covered by bespectacled glasses that gave her the appearance of someone who enjoyed their studies, perhaps even more so then the already enthusiastic student body of Kuoh.

The young woman's name was Souna Shitori – Student Council President of Kuoh Academy.

Or, at least, that's how the majority of the students referred to her as. Her true nature was something _far_ more impressive.

At the moment, Souna was frowning by the entrance gates. The reason was obvious to anyone who knew her; this was not her station. This was not her place in the academy. Souna was performing disciplinary work on behalf of the Student Disciplinary Squad – as a favor, as rumors of 'invaded female privacy' around the locker rooms and personal facilities had been regulating for some time.

Souna Shitori was a _proud woman_. She believed the Student Council had their selected tasks to uphold on a daily basis, as did the rest of the Disciplinary Squad. The Student Council organized funds and events to promote the happiness of the student body. The Disciplinary Squad kept the order of the academy preserved. Both held respectable positions, but were meant to work separately as to not endanger either organization of one another's tasks.

She denied them, at first, explaining as much. Then the captain of the squad fell to his knees, bowed to Souna in front of her entire council, and _begged_ for just one day's worth of assistance so that they could catch the perpetrators.

Thus Souna relented, as she now found herself, alone, amongst the arriving students, watching carefully for anything…well, _undisciplined._

By all accounts, this activity was quite uninteresting. And until she was permitted to close the gates to any late arrivals, she assumed she would remain in such a way.

Then a banana popped in front of her line of view.

"Mornin', Souna-chan!" A loud, cheerful voice rang out beside her, startling the Student Council President out of her relaxed state of mind, as she turned to the owner addressing her.

It was a boy who addressed her – a man, if she were to be more accurate. Tall with fair skin and dressed in the usual student body required outfit (though, he neglected to button his up at the moment, letting it hang loosely open). A tuft of long, almost spiky blond hair seemed to catch the eye first from this new addition to the schoolyard, which seemed to work in tandem with the deep blue of his eyes.

People were staring at them. One did not simply walk to the Student Council President. A certain level of address and proper decorum was required. Bow, show respect to order of authority, something!

The man just smiled his pure white teeth down to Souna without so much as a care as to his surroundings or the people around him.

The boy's name was Naruto Uzumaki. A close friend, if Souna were being honest, and had been so for many years now.

And in his outstretched hand, he shook the banana. "Breakfast?"

Souna stared at the offered fruit. Silently, she mused on how indirect and informal this action was. Not to mention how being 'offered a banana' from a boy in the early morning might have come off as a slight innuendo.

But this did not bother her. His disregard for social grace or decorum while in a presence of authority – such as her own – was refreshing.

She stared at his grinning face for a moment. "No coffee?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

In return, the blond's eyebrow twitched. "Coffee?"

Souna nodded. "It is usually customary to purchase a beverage of some sort when offering a young lady an early morning meal. Coffee is easy to carry and prevalent in quantity. Thus, coffee would be appropriate."

He stared at her, his grin falling. "You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all. Coffee would be most useful at this time. Even tea would be an appreciative second. It would help alleviate my boredom."

The blond's face offered a flat expression. "And I can't help with that?"

"Not as much as coffee would, no." She turned away from watching her peers to stare at her tall friend intensely. "_Coffee_ would _help._"

The two stared at one another – crystal blue to royal violet. A mock battle of wills over the other. Though the boy wouldn't admit it, those violet eyes were _deadly_. As expected from someone who held the position she held.

And he didn't just mean that of the Student Council President.

The boy kept a strong front for as long as he was able but soon let out a defeated sigh. "Right, right." He groaned, lifting up the bag he held in his opposite hand, which from where Souna stood was well-hidden from her view, and pulled out a small cup. It was steaming. "Black, no sugar or cream?"

Souna stared at him coolly. She guessed correctly. The blond still enjoyed playing his little games with her. Naruto Uzumaki never grew up in the years she knew him. Nor did she desire that he would. It was a trait of his that she enjoyed. Soothing, even, in his nonchalant attitude.

And if it helped alleviate the dullness of the early morning, all the better. "Thank you for the meal." She replied, reaching out to take the offered beverage and fruit with her hands, the blond nodding in a dejected manner. She didn't even question how the blond was aware that she would even be around so early in the morning. The Uzumaki boy simply did things on the spur of the moment and worked with them as they were. Souna accepted this. For sanity's sake. "Now, what might you be doing here so early? Aren't you usually running to meet the second bell?"

His reputation of near-perfect, near-tardiness preceded him. "I was gonna bring Gasper some snacks!" He smiled, waving the small bag in hand, as he stood beside the black-haired president to watch the arriving students.

"Really?" Souna asked surprised. "That's generous of you. I figured it was Rias or Koneko-san's task to do so today."

"Yeah yeah, but I was up and hungry and figured to do something nice. And if I got to school early," he shrugged, offering his half-lie to the girl. There was more to his reason being here, but she didn't need to be made aware of it just yet. It was an assignment he was taking on personally as a favor to an…_associate,_ he would call him.

In fact, part of his assignment was walking through the gates without a care or worry to be found.

"Well, I'm sure I speak for the rest of the students and faculty when I say your aptitude for actually coming early for a school day is nothing short of…" Souna paused in her humorous poking when she noticed Naruto's attention elsewhere. She blinked, turning to follow his gaze towards a group of young female students.

Of course, one in particular stood out from the rest.

Long, luscious black hair that flowed down to the lower back of her uniform. A curvy figure that women would die for. Legs that seemed to go on for miles – the girl at the center of the passing group of friends was a _knockout_ by every definition of the male mind.

Souna didn't recognize the girl. She must have been a new transfer student. And obviously, she had Naruto's attention outright.

_Funny_, Souma thought, jabbing an annoyed finger into Naruto's side. _I never pictured Naruto would be into such things._ Simplicity was a word that described Naruto well. Despite his upbringing and overall ability, he wasn't usually one to leer at a passing female that caught his eyes. _Rias would have a field day with this._

Naruto grunted, rubbing his poked side. "What,_ what?!_ What did I do?!"

Souna 'hmphed', sipping her coffee. "Don't you have snacks to deliver?"

Naruto groaned. "Yeah yeah, I'm on it." Didn't bringing breakfast to pretty young women mean something anymore? Or was it just taken for granted? "Later, Souna-chan."

"Hmph." Still peeved, Souna turned back to her watch as Naruto made his way towards the old school building at the edge of Kuoh Academy grounds.

* * *

_Inside the Old School Building, Kuoh Academy_

_Women! ARGH! Even knowing them for a hundred years wouldn't give a guy a clear idea of how they work!_ Naruto thought irritably to himself as he rubbed the sore point where the aggravated Shitori woman had poked him unmercifully, making his way through a old, dimly lit hallway of the old school building at the far end of the academy with a somewhat vexed expression.

_What got on her nerves anyway?_ He'd asked himself several times now. _I was listening to her. I brought her breakfast! I was being a _nice_ person!_ His irritable thoughts were starting to make themselves more visible on the youth's face. _And to make matters worse, my little _pigeon _problem decided to fly a little too close to the _sun!

"_Argh!_ Seriously!" He yelled, "What do girls have going through their heads?!"

Either they were mad, turning mad, being mad, or doing mad things! Even his wife suffered from this from time to time - and she was as perfect as perfect got!

Groaning, Naruto figured it was just one of those things a man would never understand: the mind of a woman.

Maybe it was for the best. What dangers lied in there was perhaps best left undisturbed.

With that depressing thought in mind, Naruto walked to the very end of the narrow hallway he'd been traversing for the last minute, coming up to the hallway's end and stood before a pair of wooden doors. In appearance, these pair of wooden doors looked much the same as any other in the old building; somewhat worn, oak-made and with an iron handle to open with. The only striking feature that differentiated the pair from any other doorway was the noticeable barriers that separated any and all occupants between the hallway and the room beyond. From wall to wall, yellow warning tape stood between Naruto and the doorway, in addition to a sturdy steel chain that wrapped itself around the door handles.

By in large, the tape and chain definitely gave the appearance that the room was off limits to any and all trespassers; perhaps warning of some construction work being handled or of a structural weakness within. Either way, the message was clear to anyone on what these barriers were insinuating - STAY AWAY.

And so naturally, navigating a free hand around the tape, Naruto gave one of the doors a soft, but still quite audible, knock."Yo! Gasper! You awake?"

"_Naruto-nii-chan?!"_ A muffled yell came from the other side of the door, as Naruto made out faint sounds of shuffling from the other end.

"I got snacks. Want some?" He yelled back, holding up his bag of goodies despite knowing they couldn't be seen.

"_Yes-yes! Absolutely, nii-chan! Come in-come in!"_

With that, Naruto moved around the warning tape, feeling a familiar unseen force attempt to press him back harshly to no avail, managing to pick the chains and locks tied around the handles before carefully opening the door.

Despite the warning signs that made the room out to be practically a hazard zone, the room was actually quite nicely made, once Naruto turned on the lights.

The room was a large, squared area, easily the size of a classroom from the main building. The walls were lined with pink and white striped wall paper, which sharply contrasted with the age of the building's structure. There were pieces of furniture, such as dressers and desks, pressed to the corners and sides, making the room come off as almost a storage area toppled with a bedroom. Even one of the lone boxes off to the sides had a small brown rabbit toy sitting comfortably on top.

The peculiarity of why this room had to have such fortifications to prevent anyone from entering would have been stopped then and there if that was the only thing to see.

Instead, the true eye catcher lied at the center of the room's structure. A large black coffin, decorated with a large Rosario-cross that stretched out from the bottom to top of its lid, sat comfortably within view of the doorway. A long white shroud hung above it, giving off a sense of mysticism and wonder to the clearly antique piece.

Then one saw it shifting and shaking with a small patter of grunts in between.

The rustling quickly gave way as the coffin's top was pushed upwards and to the side, showing off what appeared to be a young girl, lying comfortably on top of violet silk that covered the edges of the coffin. It was a startling sight to anyone unfamiliar with the old school building.

The apparent girl smiled brightly up to Naruto's entering form. She couldn't have been much older than fifteen, with short, almost platinum blond hair drawing down to the sides of her neck. Pale skin glistened in the dimly lit room along with twinkling _pink eyes_ that held no small amount of intrigue to them. Noticeably, pointing out from the sides of the obvious bed hair, two sharply pointed ears could be made out by the new arrival to the room. The coffin-sleeper wore the designed uniform befitting a student of Kuoh Academy, along with very long stockings that reached almost to the academy skirt. This ensemble and appearance of a now excitable looking individual with a cute expression might have come off as adorable to Naruto, except for the small issue to the girl's person.

The issue being, aside from the very feminine air around this person, the girl – Gasper Vladi – was, in fact, _very much __**male**_.

When first finding out this, Naruto felt very perturbed. He'd admit as much. While Gasper had been the first male to join his friend's 'club' and gave him someone to talk to on a similar (at least physically) basis of age and sex, the boy's unusual fixation with girlish clothing made Naruto call him, as his former sensei would aptly put it, a 'trap.'

"Nii-chan!" The boy-girl-whatever yelled excitedly, moving from his coffin as Naruto closed the door behind him.

Smiling to himself, Naruto pulled three chocolate bars from his small bag and stared at the boy. Time for the weekly routine. "Hey, Gasper," Gasper paused, staring at him. He should have realized what came next, "THINK FAST!"

With a twist of his wrist, the three brown bars of sweet chocolate were tossed at the young boy, leaving him to gasp in shock at the incoming projectiles, drawing his back away quickly as the items closed-in towards his unprotected face –

Then the platinum haired boy's eyes _glowed_.

* * *

"Oh, come on Gasper!"

"_Ni-i-i-chan's mean to me!_"

"I said I was sorry!"

"_Why do you always do this to me-e-eeee?!"_

"Because you're my friend! And friends help one another!"

"_You tried to poke my eyes out with candy!"_

"I failed, didn't I?!"

"_WAAAAAAAHHHHH! WAAAAAHHHH!"_

Naruto put his hand to his face and groaned, hoping to rub the irritation off his features as he sat beside the closed coffin Gasper had previously crawled out of. It was no use. This almost always happened – one step forward, two steps back.

Turning to where Gasper previously stood, Naruto couldn't help but be amazed at the three candy bars floating in mid-air. All forward movement, all pressure of gravity – everything within that small energy field Naruto could barely make out was stopped by the boy now crying in his coffin. Time and space _stalled_ for an only guessable amount of time.

That was what was so special about the boy at Naruto's side – Gasper Vladi was a time stopper. Or, more specifically, a being that possessed the ability to stop time on anything he perceived. Through concentration and focus, Gasper had a unique, inheritable ability to humans called 'a Sacred Gear,' with this specific one allowing him to distort the very essence of the universe around a specific point or place.

Named the _Forbidden Balor View_, Gasper's Sacred Gear was powerful and difficult to control. Naruto remembered the first time he met him; he wrapped the boy in a chokehold of friendship (or something like it) and the next thing he knew, three hours had passed. He found Gasper crying in a corner of the room, hiding in a box. The poor bloy blamed himself. Naruto just found it awesome and, despite his mental age, asked if he could do it again excitedly.

But the thing that really struck Naruto was Gasper's origin.

Specifically, Gasper was a hybrid being – half human and half _vampire._

Now, Naruto might have _squealed_ on how cool his new best buddy was, but he'd never admit it.

Sadly, however, the _Forbidden Balor View_ was difficult for Gasper to control. Even with years of practice 'offered' by Naruto in the most unorthodox of ways imaginable, Gasper still feared his powers. And as they grew with him, so did his fear until Naruto and his 'father' decided to enclose the boy into a part of the old school building for the sake of his mentality.

In a sense, Gasper was a shut in.

Now, Naruto made routine trips – either after class or at times as late as midnight – to check on the boy. Power and nerves aside, he was a good person. And Naruto could attest to understanding what loneliness felt like.

"Vladi, come on! I got class!" Naruto begged, knocking on the crying coffin. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? If you want, I can leave the bag here, okay?" He heard the crying die down to a sniffle. Progress in some form. Usually he'd cry for several minutes longer or until Naruto left.

_Sniff sniff. "Y-you promise to leave the candy here?"_

"When don't I leave them for you?" Seriously, candy? What was he gonna do with it; give it to Koneko-chan? She got enough candy as it was.

"_A-are you sure you'll leave it?_"

"Yes."

"_Really sure?"_

"YES."

"_Really, __**really**__ sure?"_

Naruto stared at the coffin with a flat expression. "Bye Gasper." He made for the door.

"_W-wait, nii-ch-"_

"Byyyyyye Gasper!"

"_Niiiiiii-chaaaaaaaannnnn!"_

* * *

Gasper was always a work in progress. His leaving abruptly wasn't anything new. If Naruto stayed any longer he'd run the risk of being late and the last thing he needed was a report sent to his 'mother' over his absence from lessons she 'insisted' he partake.

Or worse; if a report was sent to _Lady Venelana_.

Unconsciously, Naruto shuddered from a slight chill at the thought of his 'grandmother' as he walked down the steps of the old school building and his clubhouse. Taking a moment to look it over, Naruto admitted the design wasn't so bad. It reminded him a little of his own office when he'd been the leader of his village.

The Old School Building was aptly named, to be certain, before the renovation of its foundation by the academy's 'Occult Research Club.' Restructured and redone to hold out impressively even amongst the newer buildings of the academy, the building was now used primarily for the club's purposes, as granted by the Student Council. The wood work was refurbished, the structure fortified, the furniture and decorations placed appropriately for design and compatibility – the work that the building had seen was akin to what famous renovators and architects worked on for company buildings or even major CEO offices.

The building had seen far worse days before his club president took charge of it three years prior and made it something of a 'castle' for herself.

Naruto glanced up to the corner window of the building. It was open, letting a small breeze fly in. Silently, Naruto wondered if his friend was waiting there for class to start. Wouldn't have surprised him; he remembered how she liked to enjoy a game of chess, either with herself or her club mates, before the start of class.

Naruto shrugged. If his president was feeling confident she'd reach her classroom before the bell rang, then who was he to question –

"SOMEBODY HELP ME-E-E-E!"

Naruto blinked, knocked from his musings by the sudden shout/shriek coming his way.

Turning his head, Naruto watched with growing perplexity as a quickly recognized young man from his class sprinted past him. Brown hair, fair skin, average height – Issei Hyoudou, the famous pervert of the academy. And by pervert, Naruto _meant_ _pervert_. As in, this guy made every pervert who ever existed look like a young boy curious about female anatomy.

Even Naruto, who once created techniques to use one's sexuality against them, marveled at the lust for breasts the boy exerted.

Speaking of which, said boy's lust seemed to have put him into a rather bothersome situation. At the moment, he was running from the several females with looks to kill; specifically, the looks were coming from Kuoh Academy's female kendo club team.

"Pervert!"

"Drop dead, jackass!"

"You're the reason I can't trust men!"

"I will make sure you never reproduce!"

Ouch. That one even hurt Naruto.

Stepping to the side, Naruto watched Issei run past, gasping for air as he tried to outrun the physically superior females. He was certainly not a boy of physique and reminded Naruto in a roundabout way to the 'Green Beasts of Konoha.' Their 'fires of youth' really could come in handy for the young man running for the sake of his crotch.

Watching him and his desperate state of jog, Naruto chuckled silently. He didn't wish to see the boy hurt, but enjoying a good humorous situation wasn't a crime, right? It wasn't like he tripped the boy or anything as he ran past. Issei was a pervert to be _absolutely_ certain but death of his unborn children might have been a bit extreme. Especially when rumors stated the captain of the offended kendo club was able to cut through solid iron with just her kendo stick.

Naruto mulled that rumor over in his head. His task was to protect the boy from stray 'pigeons' and poor mental states. Angry females weren't in his required assignment checklist.

Thus, with a last glance towards the open second story window, he picked up his step and made to move towards class.

He had a reputation of only _nearly_ missing class, after all.

* * *

Inside her own little room on the second floor of her 'castle,' a rather endowed young woman looked out from her window to see a familiar set of spiky blond hair move towards the main academy building. Smiling, she wrapped a finger through her vibrant crimson hair and curled it gently as she watched the boy before he disappeared from her view behind some trees.

A shame. She considered blowing away the trees with the flick of her wrist for the briefest of moments. But that would cause a scandal amongst the students. She couldn't have that. Instead, she sighed in regret before turning and walking towards the door out of the room. Her vice president should have finished with her own preparations for class by now and neither wanted to be late.

* * *

Issei arrived shortly after Naruto, groaning and panting with minor scratches but seemed otherwise fine. He screamed and yelled at his friends, who turned out to have been the reason behind his need for a 'jog' and openly complained about having bluer balls then was healthy all the way to the start of homeroom.

But, by the end of the day, nothing special occurred beyond the basic lessons expected from a high school.

No surprise guests, no pigeons popping up, no problems.

It was a standard, boring day in Naruto's book.

Post-class chaos, however, quickly ensued.

Naruto chewed into an apple as he watched from the branches of an old oak tree a sulking Issei. After the school day had ended, the boy began to take the usual route towards home before deciding to stop on an overpass bridge and sulk about rotten luck or something. Naruto turned down his hearing capabilities around the time when the boy began to turn vocal about the unfairness of not having a girlfriend and how 'jerking off' was all he had to look forward to in his poor, high school life.

Naruto didn't really know how to relate to that. In his youth (wow that felt weird to say in a teenage body) he'd fought in wars that changed the very landscapes of _continents_. He'd nearly died on multiple occasions that he'd _lost count_. His constant training and focus made falling in love and anything to do with women one of the last things on his mind. Plus, when you have someone in your head who constantly knew what you were up to, doing anything 'freaky' ended with a loud roar of constant laughter that no amount of yelling could stop.

And on that pleasant note, Naruto perked his ears over the sound of passing cars when he noticed a certain female walk onto the bridge next to the moping teenager. This is where things got interesting.

"Excuse me," the young girl spoke up, catching the boy's attention, "you're Issei Hyoudou, right?" Issei stared at her, dumbfounded. The girl started to look conscientious of herself. "Or am I mistaken, perhaps?" Naruto took another bite of his apple as Issei answered in the positive. The girl's blush was practically glowing. "Uhm, hi! I, uh, I…um…" The girl shifted on her feet, looking uncomfortable.

Issei moved from his slouch position on the railing of the bridge to address the cute girl beside him. "Is there, uh, something I can help you with?"

The girl managed a nod. "Sort of," she answered softly, "I-I just wanted to ask you a quick question!" This time the words were practically yelled, hoping to be heard over the oncoming traffic below.

Naruto finished his apple and tossed it over his shoulder, pulling another from his coat pocket.

"A-are you seeing anyone right now?" She continued, red-faced and quiet once more, barely being heard by either of the two boys listening.

She seemed to recognize her own inaudibility, turning somewhat redder in the face than before and now actively avoiding Issei's gaze.

Issei, innocent to what was occurring, just looked confused. "Right now?" He asked, making sure he heard her right. She nodded. "Uh, no, I'm not."

The girl's mood brightened. "That's wonderful!" She yelled, before looking abashed at her sudden excitement. "That's wonderful because, uh, in that case, since your single, would you consider going out with me?"

Naruto could see from his tree that Issei was hooked.

"I've been watching you for a while, and I've seen you pass by this place and I thought you seemed…I don't know…_gentle_." She smiled slightly. "And very _handsome_ and I, well, see, I-I think I'd…I'd…" Her face was full of blush and her stutter was adorable. She worked up the courage for one final yell of her confession.

"I'd like you to be my boyfriend!"

Naruto actually laughed from his tree spot, convinced the cars below the bridge would cover the noise. From his point of view, Issei looked like he just won the lottery three times in a row.

Issei managed a nod with a small 'uh-huh' much to the girl's great delight. She looked ecstatic as she made plans with the mostly dumbfounded boy on when she could pick him up to walk to school together. Issei gave the information, nodded at the appropriate times, then waved as the girl left her new 'boyfriend' to himself.

Issei stood completely still on that bridge for well over fifteen minutes, just staring at where the girl ran off to, before letting out a fierce cheer of joy and making a run for home. The sheer shine of his excitement would have otherwise put a smile on his blond watcher's face had the situation not taken a turn for the _worse_.

"Guess I've gotta watch him in the mornings, too," Naruto muttered, sighing as he dropped from the tree. At least he wouldn't have to follow him home today because now he started to get an idea of what was the deal with this new 'pigeon.'

She wanted the Emmy. She wanted the Golden Globe. She wanted to _play._

And that was fine. Naruto liked playing games too.

* * *

The next few days were perhaps the best days of Issei's short life, by Naruto's opinion. His 'protective observation', as he'd begun to call it, out of annoyance to the word 'stalking' by his employer, was going well.

The girl – who, as Naruto found out, decided to go by the name 'Yuuma Amano' – became the favorite topic of Issei's life. She was the doting girlfriend, the heartthrob, the best a man could ask for in a 'lady friend.' Issei introduced her to anyone he knew, almost as if he tried to prove she existed to the people he met as much as to himself.

He obviously cared for her, which was a weird contrast from how Naruto expected the boy to act around the girl.

Apparently, Issei Hyoudou was only about 95% of a horndog, rather than the believed one-hundred percent. Good for him.

After little over a week of staking out the pair, Naruto finally received the info he needed to hear.

"Go out? You mean, like out _out_? As in, out with _me_?" Issei asked, looking at his girlfriend (he just loved saying that!) with wide eyes, as she smiled back excitedly.

"Uh-huh! I was thinking about this Sunday and if you'd like to go to the mall or something." Her voice was so sweet and innocent. She scratched her chin unsurely. "That is, if you want-"

"Of course I wanna! No doubt!" Issei interrupted, suddenly pumped. "This Sunday is perfect for me!"

The girl smiled, pleased. "Excellent." She told him a time, a place and gave him a quick goodbye before running off on her own, looking embarrassed. Issei waved goodbye before going into hysterics at the prospect of possibly seeing real 3D 'lady parts.'

Naruto shrugged himself off another tree and aimed back towards his apartment complex.

At least he knew what he'd be doing this Sunday.

* * *

_Mall Area_

Issei had to have been the luckiest guy on the _planet_.

Yuuma was a girl a guy dreamed of having in his life. Her smile, her enjoyment to his company, even her choice in clothing – _how did someone like her exist_? One minute, he'd been sulking about the world being against him and the next? God sends him an angel! His open perverseness made him believe he'd been cursed with poor fortune for the rest of his days! But now, with Yuuma-chan at his side, he just felt more accepted and brighter and cheerful –

And they were dating! How awesome was that?!

Their first date together made him laugh and lose all inhibitions to what he might do to ruin that day for her. Their first date was, by extension, Issei's first date, and if this was how it was gonna be like with her every day he knew her, he might just quick his pornos and magazines and live straight off of Yuuma's smile! (Okay, that might have been a stretch, but still!)

How had he, the leader of the Perverted Trio, managed to earn such a _goddess_?

They did everything he thought a couple was supposed to do on a fun date. They checked out a clothing store, messed around with various fabrics for the laughs and ate ice cream by the cup load. The entire date felt like one of those cliché date scenes you saw in those chick flicks his mom liked to rent out and cry to along with his dad. But, maybe they had some realism to them? Was this how happy people were together?

And best of all, he even got to see some of her over-boob! IT WAS AWESOME!

And now, as the sun was going down, Issei felt confident enough to hold her hand as they walked through the park. He was making a move! And working! She held on tightly to his hand in return, smiling gently to the ground with red in her cheeks. Issei noticed this and felt his heart flutter.

Perhaps this was love? It had to be. He wasn't thinking of owning a harem anymore. Just having her seemed enough.

In fact, just having her was starting to sound _really_ good right then.

"Issei-kun?" Yuuma said quietly, getting Issei's undivided attention as they stopped beside a fountain in the park. The sun was lowering down, glistening off the fountain's flowing waters, with the trees offering them a cool breeze that flowed through Yuuma's hair, giving it an ethereal wave of serenity. It really hit the romantic mark.

"Ye-yeah, Yuuma-chan?" Issei asked, smiling as he tried to calm down his nerves, only wondering what this _amazing_ girl was about to say.

"Can I ask you to do something for me? In honor of our first date together?" The way she said 'first' made Issei excited that there might actually be more for him in the future.

"Sure. You can ask me for anything." He said, looking at her smile and wondering if this is where he'd get his first _kiss_ from. His heart was starting to pump almost painfully in his chest in anticipation.

"Good." She said, sighing before taking a deep breath and looking him straight in the eye. "Will…"

Issei's eyes must have been wide as he was prepared to practically do anything to keep this girl smiling for the rest of his life.

"Will you…die for me?"

* * *

Naturally, Issei blinked at that one. "Uh, could you repeat that, please?" He asked, laughing off what he _must_ have misheard. "I must have something in my ear."

Yuuma's smile widened. "I asked if you would die for me?"

That time, he heard her. "Eh?"

Yuuma laughed silently, as she brought her hands out to her sides, her features turning dark as she looked at the perplexed young man in front of her.

Yuuma's appearance began to change. Her clothes started to take on a darker tint, twisting and changing into material that seemed akin to leather as it grasped tightly to her sides. What was once a rather innocent and cute shirt and skirt had turned into a rather scandalous dress that complimented her breasts and curves quite proudly.

The world around Issei began to twist and deform alongside Yuuma's appearance, with an eerie purple and black barrier surrounding the pair and most of the park with them. Aside from the two, however, no one else seemed to be around to be caught in this twisted state of reality.

Issei's eyes bugged as Yuuma began to cackle at her new state when a pair of long, coal-black bird wings sprouted from her shoulder blades, curling around her comfortingly. Then she pressed off the ground, keeping the wings outstretched as she hovered several feet off the ground, in front of the shocked (and slightly turned on) young man. He seemed to only be managing to make out the bare minimum of what was going on, with boobs taking up a lot of ram-speed in that perverted mind of his.

The look Yuuma gave her 'boyfriend' was _sinister_. "I will admit, _Issei-kun_, today wasn't all that bad. I did have some fun. It was a nice break from the usual hassle I have to go through." She lifted her arm up to her face, looking at a pink scrunchy Issei bought for her back at the clothes store. "It was very sweet." She mused, before turning to point her hand to the boy. "But like all things, this sweet memory must come to an _end_." Yuuma's hand started to turn a violent crimson, as the light twisted in air to form something that looked akin to a glowing, jagged _spear_.

Issei stared at it all from his fallen state on the ground. The wings, the spear, the barrier – _it was too much!_ "Wait, Yuuma! _Please_!"

In return, 'Yuuma' only _smiled_. "Now! It's time to d-AHHHH!"

**SPLASH!**

* * *

The past minute seemed to be getting more and more unusual for the hormonal teen on the ground.

A minute ago, his girlfriend asked him to die for her.

Thirty seconds ago, she went full leather on him (could have been worse).

Fifteen seconds ago, she made a spear out of red light.

Ten seconds ago, she tried to stab him with said spear.

Presently, he was now looking at the backside of a familiar blond-haired boy, who only seconds ago grabbed a hold of one of Yuuma's wings, twisted it violently in a circle, and threw her into the fountain.

The blond-haired guy – _Naruto_, Issei thought he remembered it right – was staring intently at the water before glancing back quickly to Issei's prone, downed form. The look in his eyes almost made Issei doubt he had the right guy. "N-Naruto-senpai?"

Naruto lifted up two fingers. "Yo."

The water erupted from the fountain in front of them, turning their attention back to the winged woman, who now hovered several feet off the ground, soaking and panting at having just been man-handled into the park decoration.

Though Issei couldn't see it, Naruto's expression hardened. "Stay there," he ordered, getting Issei's brief attention, "I'll handle this." Issei couldn't even nod in acknowledgement before his blond peer took a couple steps forward, staring at his floating, leather-clad girlfriend.

'Yuuma' snarled as water constantly fell from her wings and body, turning her attention to the newest addition to park's confined space.

She met the blond's stare. "Who the hell are you?!"

"A big damn hero." Then he leapt at her.

* * *

**Alright, just a head's up for all the people out there, ****I WANT TO THANK YOU PROFUSELY****! For all the support, favorites, follows and reviews you've given me. I just wanted to say that, when I posted this story at 2 AM on a Saturday, after failing to get an internship I really wanted for the summer, I didn't expect much from this write up. I was down and not looking forward to a lot of things ahead of myself.**

**But, come eight hours later, I'm waking up to see that people LIKED MY STORY! THEY REALLY, REALLY DID! BANZAI, CHEERIO AND WHAT-NOT!**

**I cannot express the gratitude to the number of you who made me feel like I accomplished something, especially after that blow to my pride and worth. This story was something I just threw together, initially, with only a couple of hours of constant writing put into it, hoping to make it just a one-shot to keep the creative juices flowing.**

**But now? NOW I PLAN TO GO THE LONG HAUL! I have been inspired to bring a well-planned, well-developed story to the people who have put their faith in me.**

**I am, by far, not a gifted writer. I know that. I just try to make the writing look good without using too much extra words. I am working on my humor and my worth as a writer for the benefits of FF readers everywhere. I hope to bring the characters new worth and development beyond their original work. For me, THAT is what a great Fanfiction Writer can do.**

**I'll cut this whole lengthy message short and say, and I know this is still early in my writing career, but without you guys, I would probably be a mess this weekend and not looking forward to my upcoming exams and classes.**

**I have been inspired. And it is thanks to ****you guys****.**


	3. Angels and Stairs Don't Mix

CHAPTER TWO: ANGELS AND STAIRS DON'T MIX

_The Underworld, Lucifer Mansion, The Past_

Naruto Uzumaki was known as a paragon of strength, dexterity, ability and knowledge in his time as the Hokage – _the leader_ – of his village.

He was revered for his charismatic nature and influence over the lives of millions. His very presence demanded absolute attention and respect, even in his waning years in active service. The air around him was vibrant and full of energy, regardless if he was having a friendly chat with a foreign delegate or taking a stroll through the forests to check on the generations that followed. His stature during times of conflict struck fear into the eyes of his foes as he stood at the precipice of armies. His smile warmed the heart, his laugh made grown men stronger, and his belief in the betterment of men made the world a brighter place.

So you can imagine the sharp contrast this new, miniature baby-form felt in comparison.

Over the span of several days under the care of the silver-haired maid-woman and various other maid-dressed members of the large estate the couple had teleported to, Naruto slowly came to understanding that neither his body nor consciousness were dead. That this was not some form of dream or his own personal hell. That he had, for lack of better understanding to the situation, been "reborn" into this newborn's body.

This created an interesting first few days.

Naruto was fully aware of everything that was going around him. As he recalled, children were often born blind or lacking a large level of vision outside of a certain distance. They were largely unsure of the world around them for quite some time. He did not have that issue; from the corner of his new crib to the violet sky outside of his bedroom, Naruto was seeing everything he could see in his previous life. Better, even. His eyes had started to dull as he aged but these new pair of eyes were clear and precise as they could have been (a positive to an otherwise unpleasant experience).

Naruto could hear, understand, feel and taste everything around his tiny body. He could hear the coos and baby words his caretakers used to try and get him to smile or laugh (in which he did, if only for how unbelievably _weird_ the whole act was). He understood the silver-haired woman's questions to her staff on how he was acting or behaving, obviously curious to Naruto's most assuredly unusual 'baby attitude.' He could touch the soft fabric of his crib and felt the comfortable hold of his handlers as they picked him up for feeding.

_That's_ when things got _weird_ (or weird_er_, as the situation already was quite so).

Apparently, the idea of _formula_ and _bottles_ wasn't a common practice amongst the staff brought in to care for the boy. Naruto's attitude towards the first maid, who offered him her breast for feeding on the first night of his arrival at Lucifer Mansion, was anything but graceful.

To the blond's defense, the idea felt _wrong_. This was a grown woman – kind and smiling without hesitance – unaware to whom she held in her arms. She offered her breast for him to suckle on without as much as a thought or idea to how the situation truly was. The idea of…of…_feeding_ in such a manner that left him as embarrassed as it did to make him aware of just how _hungry _his new body actually was.

It was a, surprisingly, difficult decision to make for the blond child-man. Feed or hold some level of pride as a husband and former leader of his village? He hadn't experienced the pleasure of a woman in such a way since his wife. Hadn't been tempted or considered to pursue anyone else. That knowledge brought him some discomfort at the idea of, even second-handedly, betraying her. It was just to feed and not by any means for pleasure, but the idea did him little good.

This turmoil lasted for some time. The maid was insistent and goading the boy in a cute voice, joking with her peers that the boy was a hard one to tempt.

That made it worse; _being watched in the act._

Eventually, the hunger of the newborn's body pressed Naruto to do something he never imagined doing. And thus, after much regret (and a little silent apology) he fed. He was fed routinely in this fashion about once every few hours; his guilt rising as the days passed.

This was only one of the many pride-wrecking circumstances of his 'babification.' He wasn't even going to delve into the idea of his new body's _bladder control_ problems.

Somethings were just too morbid to think about…

* * *

The initial passing of time was a painful thing for the reborn Hokage.

Naruto assumed quickly why children didn't possess much awareness with their initial stages of growth. Their incapacity for much more than drooling left little to be desired for the sake of remembrance. The awareness of his predicament made time seem to almost linger on far longer than it should. And while his body required copious amounts of sleep, which was a thankful reprieve from the limited existence he had been forced into, it was hard to watch the world around him work and move and live while he remained trapped within the fluffy and comfortable confines of his crib.

He was routinely visited by the lord of the mansion. The man – his founder – seemed enamored with the little Naruto whenever he had the chance to check on him. The lord Lucifer, as Naruto discovered his name was by listening to passing maids in his crib-room, was apparently a man of significant power and respect. He assumed the man must have been quite the warrior or diplomat based on the limited understanding of just what a 'Great Satan' was. Unfortunately, the image of a warrior was quickly diminished with the red-head's enamored attitude towards playing, tickling (Naruto laughed, he wasn't proud), and giving baby-Naruto attention he never actually received in his own lifetime.

Ironic. It took death and resurrection to give him experiences like those given by a father. Made awkward based on originally perceived guessing on the age of the red-haired man, when Naruto assumed he was probably several decades his elder in mentality.

Naruto watched carefully as time passed. His lack of voice and developed motor skills left him to carefully consider the situation he had been placed in and what this meant. Even after the months crept passed, Naruto couldn't recall anything past saying goodbye to his children.

It was a blank.

One second, dead. Next second, baby. It took time to accept that this was how it was.

Naruto remembered, after months of waiting, the first day he even found himself able to sit up straight, with initial assistance from the silver-woman. That felt like a small blessing, after being only able to lie on his back for so long.

Then came the lessons on how to rollover, followed quickly by how to crawl. He could see the maids surprise on how fast he took to both tasks once they trusted him enough to do anything more than sleep, eat, and occasionally spit up (he hated his baby body).

Then he started to walk. Six months into his 'imprisonment' (life in the crib) and he was making awkward steps around the mansion's halls. Naruto, who was described as the 'cutest baby ever' by the mansion's maids, smiled like a goofball the entire day, with the silver-woman carefully guiding him to ensure he did not harm himself. The lord of the mansion was 'gushing' at the level of awesome his son must have had to be walking so soon.

Naruto recalled when he was called his '_son_.'

That had taken some getting used to, with no small level of hesitance.

Next, Naruto started to form words, slowly and quite literally feeling his vocal cords stretch, expand and grow as he did. He couldn't remember what the first word he managed to say clearly, but he remembered being asked to say it again and again by those around. Just for laughs, he started to say other, small, believable baby words to the amusement of staff and house owner.

Then he learned to run. Then he moved out of the crib. Then slowly, as months turned to years, the boy who lived in the house of Lucifer grew up for a second time.

* * *

_Mall Area, Park Section, Present Day_

Air superiority.

Angelic energy.

Strength and speed at near superhuman levels.

Weapons constructed from light and sheer willpower.

Angels, even Fallen Angels, were beings not to be trifled with. For thousands of years, the abilities of Angels altered very little, large part in due to their unbelievable effectiveness against their arch foes. When humans could not fight the Devil onslaught, the Angels fought them back. When the age of man seemed to be near its end, the Angels insured its survival. When darkness crept over the corners of the world, the Angels held the last _light_.

Even those of different religions, mythologies or legends knew better than to trifle with those whose power was gifted to them by someone who claimed the title of 'God.'

Yuuma Amano – best known under her true identity as the Fallen Angel, _Raynare_ – was another who was led by this idea of battle superiority. Especially to those of Earth or the Underworld. She was proud of her capabilities and felt virtuous in her reasoning behind her actions on the current day at the mall. When there was a threat to the survival of her kind, she had the obligation to prevent its destruction –

After all, an Angel had the backing of God, right? How could anything they do be wrong?

This idealism of strength, reputation and absolute _righteousness_ was not shared by the 'big damn hero.'

"AHHHH!" Raynare yelled, thrown backwards from the force of the kick thrown to her side by the blond _miscreant_; just managing to correct her hovering form before hitting the tree line. Glancing back to her assailant, she openly glared as the boy stood atop the park fountain, watching her struggle to hold flight.

Crossing his arms, Naruto gave her a hard look. "Fallen Angel," he shouted, catching the small change in her expression that told him she was surprised at his knowledge who, or at least what, she was, "_step down_. The boy is under _my_ protection."

Raynare's teeth gritted into a snarl. "And just who the hell's '_protection_' is he receiving?"

"Someone who's stronger than_ you_," Naruto answered. "I have no issue with you _or_ your Fallen. But the boy is not yours to take on some _whim,_" he waved his hand off to the side. "Leave. _Now_."

His voice was unflinching and left little room for debate. His 'Hokage voice,' as he called it, left Raynare to fume from her position in the air.

What infuriated the Fallen Angel the most was debatable. The blond's ordering of her to step down; his claim of strength that surpassed her own _– _the strength of a Fallen Angel; or simply his interruption to the what should have been a quick 'kill-and-run' for the young woman.

Whichever the case, Raynare bared her teeth all the same, holding out her arm as the light around her distorted to form yet another spear.

From his position atop the fountain, Naruto watched as the girl, with an obviously practiced hand, twisted around in the air, gathering momentum before tossing the spear towards his head. Naruto had experience with sharp projectiles such as this before; _trained_ to deal with them. So, with a simple twist of his neck to the side – _milliseconds_ before the spear grazed by his head – Naruto proved he was never in any real danger.

Staring back to the Fallen Angel, Naruto's eyes hardened further. "Are you done?"

"_Tsk_."

"I'm warning you one last time, _Fallen Angel_. _Leave_. I won't tell you a third time." To be honest, he didn't even feel like giving her a second warning. 'Beatdown Therapies' were something of a specialty of his. But he owed her at least one last chance, out of appreciation to his employer.

Fortunately, she had pride issues. Which was good; he enjoyed people with pride issues.

Made watching them fall on their _asses_ all the more fun.

The look in Raynare's eyes took a hint a fury to them, as she brought her hand to the side to form another spear. "Don't underestimate _me!_"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Naruto yelled back, leaping down from the fountain as he continued to stare at the girl floating in the air. She was tense, frustrated and packing some serious firepower. But, unlike before, she wasn't throwing the projectile; opting for close range fighting in the air.

This was a wise decision. With any other opponent, Raynare might have had the advantage based on aerial combat expertise. Natural aerial beings almost always had an effective edge over those on the ground. If a ground-based opponent felt they had the advantage against an opponent of the air, and hoped to meet them mid-way for an attack, more often than not they were left with a unsettling surprise that the reality of aerial opponents were not to be trifled with.

However, Naruto was _not_ that kind of opponent.

Taking a couple steps to gain momentum, Naruto leapt at the Fallen Angel, who raised her spear in preparation for his assault…

…_Futile_, though it was.

* * *

Post-combat survivors often take time to wonder the big 'what-ifs.'

In the case of the current conflict, Raynare would wonder several possible outcomes to her challenge with the blond-haired combatant.

What if she'd thrown her spear while the boy was caught mid-air? He couldn't dodge, surely. A quick toss of her spear, five feet before he even got within fist-throwing range, and he would have a spear lodged down his throat, right?

What if she dodged his initial attack? Let gravity take hold of him and as he fell, close the distance to his unprotected back with a swift strike to the heart.

What if, just for the sake of hypothetical, she went for the downed Issei while Naruto was focused on her? A fling of her spear as the blond attempted to meet her mid-flight, too fast to do anything to challenge its trajectory, with Issei having a decent sized hole in his chest? It would be a wound to her pride to admit she couldn't take her blond opponent (which, at that moment, she couldn't be certain of) but her task would be finished. A threat, eliminated. Retreat would be bitter sweet, but an accomplishment.

Yes. Combat, like life, was filled with the 'what ifs.' They could keep you awake at night, wondering what might have been.

But this was not a 'what if.' This was _reality_. This was _the present_.

And presently, Naruto was making his move.

* * *

Raynare evaluated the distance.

Ten meters. Seven meters. Five meters.

She pulled back her spear.

Three meters.

She was in the air. Her territory. And her opponent was coming to _her_.

She had the advantage with her spear. It had extended length – longer than his arms.

She was trained for _this_. _Ready_ for _this_!

Two meters!

_Close enough!_

She pointed her spear forward and gave a thrust of her weight into her weapon. Her teeth were grit, her arms were taught, and her knuckles were white with how hard she held onto the spear.

This was her win, she thought. She _won_.

…Looking back to the 'what ifs,' she wondered if she looked into the blond's eyes, she would have realized her mistake to have even considered challenging such a _man_.

Naruto watched the spear. He watched the twitch of muscles on the Fallen Angel as she readied her attack. He saw her eyes judging the distance between them and figured she took into consideration the length of her spear to his arms.

She was capable. But she was _young_. She didn't have the experience of life and death situations he had.

And in this situation, experience is what mattered most.

He watched her eyes. He kept watch on her spear-point. He saw it narrow the distance towards his head.

It came within a hair's length of his head.

Then he _dodged._

Raynare's eyes widened as the blond's head, like before, moved sharply to the side, her spear grazing past to only clip a couple of yellowish hair.

Her eyes widened as her eyes met the man's.

He never let his gaze turn away from her.

Then his hand went wide. He caught her wrist holding the spear. His other hand went for her bare shoulder, holding tightly to effectively stabilize himself off of the Fallen.

He twisted her wrist.

"_Ahhh!_" She screamed, feeling her bones crack as her spear fell from her hand, dissipating into the air before it even touched the ground.

Through the pain, she managed to meet his stare. Perhaps it was then that she realized her folly.

This was no human. It couldn't have been. To cause an Angel – a being of considerable endurance – such a shock from a simple wrist tightening did not seem possible.

But there wasn't the _stench_ of Devil on him. Not the smell of a particular mythology or _lesser_ religion. He held no demonic power that she could feel.

He felt _human_.

And yet, there was _power_.

Naruto was a man trained. He didn't care that Raynare was female when he nearly broke her wrist. He didn't care when he moved his hand into a fist to drive it into her _stomach._ He didn't even flinch when he drove his knee right after – Raynare wouldn't hold back, neither would he.

Then he performed his '_finisher.'_

His hand still on her shoulder, Raynare wavered in the air after the severe blows to her abdomen. Naruto took Raynare's attempt to regain composure and _air_ to perform a _single-armed handstand_ over her head and shoulders, effectively landing on her back with his hand on her shoulder ensuring he didn't lose hold over the pained woman.

Even while holding onto some measure of control of the pain in her body, Raynare's eyes showed her surprise at the blond's actions, followed shortly by the absolute _horror_ at what came next.

With hands moving firmly to grasp around black appendages, Naruto pulled tightly to Raynare's coal-colored _wings._

* * *

Funny thing about the wings of an Angel. Similar to Devils, the wings on the backs of both races were often never seen in a motion similar to flapping. Both races released their individual hidden appendages when they desired so that they might be capable of achieving flight, but beyond that, the wings did no movement to signify that they had any control over the flight patterns of either beings.

And in a way, this was true.

The wings were largely symbolic for both races. They did not need to move so that their ability to fly could be obtained. Devils and Angels, using their own form of demonic or angelic energy, respectively, channeled their power into their wings to offer a form of limited _gravity control_ to their person. Indeed, aside from that, the wings weren't necessary for much else.

It was this idea that the wings of the biblical lore were mainly for show that made others ignore them. It was a rumor spread by both Angel and Devil.

The reason was because the harsh truth was so much _worse._

Raynare felt the shocks go through her body as Naruto pulled tightly to the wings. Thousands of painful needles felt like they were passing through her as the blond's grip never loosened. She tried shaking, screaming, waving herself in the air to throw him off but it was pointless.

He had her. And now the worst thing about having one's wings pulled, the things Angels feared most, was happening to her now.

They were falling. Fast.

"You _idiot!_" Raynare cried, feeling the air sweep past her as the ground began to close in quickly. She hadn't even realized how high the two of them were before their clash in the sky but apparently, they were quite high. And now, they were descending to the ground far too fast for her calm or reserved nature to come in.

At this height, the impact would surely-!

"_You'll kill us both!"_

"No. I won't." Naruto's voice, even over the wind, was heard as he watched carefully as he rode the back of the Angel down to earth. The ground was catching up quick.

He was prepared for this. "Get ready."

"_To what?!"_

"To **_fly_**."

He let go of her wings and jumped.

Raynare's eyes clearly showed her surprise. His words alone were what prepared her for the moment he released her wings from his grip, allowing her to once more channel her power into them. Even managing to take into account the push off from her back when the blond made his last minute retreat, Raynare caught her form in the air – _barely_ a foot from what would have been her crushing _end_.

There was a cold sweat coming down her skin. Raynare panted for air she hadn't realized over her fear that her lungs sorely lacked.

Her body trembled.

She couldn't believe, over that heart-pounding moment of _falling_, that she was still breathing. That despite the soreness in her wrists and wings and the sweat beading down her skin, Raynare of the Fallen Angels was alive and unharmed.

_She was __**alive**_.

She let herself fall from her hovering onto the grass. She couldn't remember the last time she appreciated the feeling of earth so much. Being an Angel, the air was their home, more so then any other race. But the grass - with its sharp pointed top but still smooth makeup - felt _wonderful_ to her skin.

She felt like laughing at the irony of an _Angel_ enjoying the surface of the _Earth_ had it not been for the shadow that loomed over her then.

"Remember that feeling, Angel," Naruto's voice never seemed to crack or waiver as beautiful young Angel lifted her head to stare at him. "Remember: _this_ is what happens when you bite off more than you can _chew._"

Then he turned from her and walked in the direction of the fountain. Issei was probably still there. The blond doubted he would have left. Under both the barrier and Naruto's words, Issei would have been too nervous to have done much of anything.

And besides, Raynare got the message. His employer would be pleased.

Propping herself up onto her arms before slowly moving onto her knees, Raynare stared at the retreating form of the blond. No fear or unease was evident on his features.

He planned this. Right down to the moment, he planned his _win_ and made her out to be the _fool._

But now, as Raynare watched him walk away, she wondered; was it his win?

Raynare glared to his bare back, before pulling her arm to the side. Amidst the stress and relief of being alive, she could feel the pull of energy as she focused it into her wrist. She was careful. Careful not to let the 'hero' see her focus or the light coming from her hand. His defenses were down, his consideration of her gone, believing her defeated. But he was wrong! She was a Fallen Angel! The _strongest_ of the Three Factions! Trained in the art of combat since she was a child by the magnificent Azazel himself! She was not some _dog_ to be put down by some…some…_boy_ and his pretend belief that he was some _hero._

She slowly began to twist the energy, slowing giving it substance and form, as she moved to stand with one leg on the ground and –

Froze.

She stared at him. The boy-man-hero-person. She stared at him as he walked away.

He didn't so much as bother to look over his shoulder. He was certain in his victory over her.

It was weird. She recalled what he did to her not a minute ago.

The falling. The anxiety. The belief that it was the end.

How calm he was. He didn't fear what came next. He either had the acceptance of what might occur or the belief he would survive.

And those ideas _terrified her._

She fell to her knees again, arms holding her body up as she panted and felt stinging tears fall from her eyes.

_I almost died. I almost **died**! I almost died I almost died I almost died I almost died I almost died…_

* * *

Naruto stood from the corner of a tree, effectively hidden from the downed Angel, as he watched her eventually stand with a look of almost hollow acceptance to what had occurred before taking off in a shaky flight pattern to parts unknown. The barrier fell around the park area, showing the night sky and the mall now lit from the inside.

Naruto nodded, accepting the turn of events, before going back to Issei.

Like he figured, the boy hadn't moved. Perhaps he had a nice show as Naruto dished out some of the good old fashioned 'pain-train' on his girlfriend. Perhaps he just couldn't feel his legs after seeing such brutality on both party's' parts. Perhaps he was just obedient – either way, he didn't move much from where Naruto left him.

Which was perfect. Because Naruto knew what he had to do.

"Issei," Naruto spoke up, kneeling beside the boy as he got his attention. He was in some form of mild shock, judging by his eyes. Naruto lightened his tone somewhat, "how you feeling?"

Issei stared at him. "Fine. Just...yeah."

Naruto nodded. Expected as much. "I expect you have a lot of questions, huh?" Issei hesitated before offering a shaky nod. "And you're probably not too sure what to make of everything you saw here, hmm?" Again, Issei nodded. Naruto nodded with him, thinking everything over. "Alright, I can give you answers. But first, I'm going to need you to answer a question."

Issei waited a moment before speaking. "What question?"

Naruto lifted his hand. "What did the five fingers say to the face?"

"…What?"

**SMACK!**

* * *

In the circumstances throughout modern history, where a human discovered the existence of Angels, Devils or some other form of mythical being by accident, certain measures were taken to insure they and other viewing parties would not relay such discovered information to anyone.

Previously, the technique was called 'mass slaughtering.'

Thankfully, the realization that this caused more problems than solutions was realized. Thus, each race soon began developing techniques that, on the weak-willed, unconscious or shocked minds of humans, worked to remove the memories of what had previously occurred. This left fewer humans dead and caused less strife among the worlds and religious factions.

Naruto, however, knew no such technique.

Truthfully, that moment at the park was _not_ one of Naruto's better moments. In fact, this might have been a move that went under the category of 'risky' and 'stupid' at the same time. He hadn't done something like that since he was a _teen_ (well, a teen before the teen he was now – past teen life – whatever).

He panicked. He wasn't sure how to deal with this sort of situation so he figured the 'shocked mind, knock unconscious, thinks it's all a pretty dream' idea sounded pretty good.

Sadly, reality kicked in and he realized he had more work to do.

Issei Hyoudou's body wasn't heavy. Not at all, really. But carrying him around on rooftops, avoiding wandering eyes and potential bystanders, even at nighttime, was proving somewhat difficult and time consuming.

This wasn't Konoha, where people jumping over rooftops was a daily norm.

_What I wouldn't do for a transport spell right now_, Naruto thought to himself. But he had to keep this under wraps. No calling mom for this mess. His employer would not be pleased if he half-assed this at the end.

Thus, with a mindset of determination he held since he was a kid in both of his lives, Naruto made his way carefully into the Hyoudou residence.

Thankfully, Issei wasn't one to lock his window on the usually busy street of his house. With a quick tug, Naruto opened it to the inside of the pervert's bedroom, moved inside with Issei slouched on his back and quietly moved to place the boy on his futon.

Taking a moment to relax, Naruto looked over the boy's room. It was about what he expected. Magazines, books, dvds – 90% of which was porn. Desk, dresser, clothes, posters (porn-oriented). It was homey, for its simplicity. It vaguely reminded Naruto of his old apartment, minus the intense sexy-girl-themed collectables.

Funny how moving into a house and, post-death, being raised in large mansions gave one a perspective of 'simplicity.'

Naruto sighed, stretching out his limbs as he reached down into the boy's pockets and pulled out his phone. Over the last week, when Naruto was keeping 'protective observation' over the boy and his 'girlfriend,' Naruto knew that Issei had been rather attached to the girl through digital devices.

Going through Issei's phone, Naruto searched for what he needed. Thankfully, Issei was very thorough on naming things, so finding what he needed was no trouble for Naruto.

'Awesome Amano's' email address:

_**Delete.**_

'Yuu-My Girl's' social network profile page address:

_**Delete.**_

'BEST! GIRLFRIEND! EVER!' phone number:

_**Delete.**_

'Yuuma Amano Photos':

Naruto hesitated there.

In the small folder of Issei's phone, there was a group of photos with Yuuma Amano's – _Raynare's_ – face in every one of them.

The folder seemed to be carefully organized. Each picture depicted Yuuma is some sort of laughing, smiling, happy or joking manner. There were even some with Issei in them, smiling brightly as he took the photos with enthusiasm. They didn't even seem explicitly sexual or dirty in nature (which surprised the blond), though a few did seem to get good shots of the top of her breasts during their date together.

In the end, though, the two seemed, generally, _happy_.

Naruto looked down from the phone to the boy sleeping off the knockout hit to the forehead. He'd be out till morning, at least.

Issei really liked this 'Yuuma.' The photos, the smiles, the interactions – he cared for the disguise of Raynare. Naruto wouldn't deny him as much. He was a serious pervert whom Naruto caught more than a few times staring profusely at the Fallen Angel's bust, even as she was trying to skewer him, but he had his saving graces.

He was a boy who still had the capacity to love and be loved like anyone else.

_**Delete.**_

But still, it needed to be done.

Placing the phone back into his pocket, the slight shifting of his clothing knocked a loose piece of parchment from his jacket's inside pocket. It caught Naruto's eye, brightly glaring over the light from the window, as he reached over and picked up the folded paper carefully.

He opened it and glanced over the contents.

The bizarre formation of runes and circles was the first thing that caught his eye.

Caught it, because the symbol was _very familiar._

Pursing his lips, Naruto folded the flyer and placed it into his back pocket, holding back a groan.

"_Rias_…"

* * *

_Complex Apartments, south end of city, a few minutes later…_

"So, mission accomplished, right?"

"_Depends. Am I still obligated to watch the boy?"_

"Hmmmmmmm-_nah_! I think we've established he's not to be disturbed just fine. Nice work, by the way. Fear tactics-HAH! Very _ninja_! Couldn't have done it better myself!"

"..._No, you couldn't. Will that be all? Are we clear on what I owe?"_

"Yep! We're clear as Gabriel's horn! Both of them!"

"…_I'm not going to even ask what that meant._"

The other end of the phone died, as a middle-aged man laughed outside his apartment, clicking the phone shut and moving to go back to the comfort of the indoors.

The man fit the look of, for lack of better terms to describe him by, a _bachelor_. He was tall, opting to wearing a loosely-fitted, grayish kimono, even as it grew colder outside, and wore a pair of similarly loose sandals. Facial wise, the man might have been considered quite handsome. Tanned skin, boasting a goatee that had to have been trimmed and cleaned on a regular basis to get the sharpness that it had, with long, mixed-colored golden and black hair that seemed natural but shouldn't have been possible.

He walked with a casual step back into his apartment, smiling an almost victorious smile, as he looked to his 'guest' who sat silently by herself.

"Rayna-chan," he spoke up, as the long-haired Fallen Angel, Raynare, looked away from the small television in the room to offer a glance back to the man, "how are you feeling?"

The man's tone was soft. It made Raynare blush in embarrassment for needing his assistance. She was a proud Fallen Angel, damn it! "I-I'm fine." She said, trying to put as much pride into her voice, even with her disheveled appearance, though the stuttering didn't help her position.

After her fight with the blond warrior, Raynare attempted to recover her strength as best as she knew how; returning to the Underworld. With her well-supplied stock of tools and items, her home could see to her resting and healing needs. But at the moment, before she even opened a portal to vacate the planet, she recalled her lord's command.

She was to stay on Earth.

So, with gritted teeth, she realized she couldn't return to the temporary confines she'd made for herself since arriving on the different world. It was too far away and she was weakening fast. She considered other Angel locations, but quickly struck the idea down. They would laugh at her. She was aiming to raise her position amongst those who stood beside her – to make those around her know that she wasn't just a _child_ who'd been taken in out of pity or mercy.

No. She couldn't go to the _other_ Angels. But, then, the man standing behind her _wasn't_ like the others, was he.

He was the one who, even during her fits, would not judge or throw her away.

Said man smiled, "I'm glad. You know, you had me in quite the shock when you dropped down here. I thought you might have done something you shouldn't have." His tone was in jest and his smile offered no knowing of anything beyond her sudden arrival to his abode.

Raynare had the courtesy to look abashed, however. "O-of course not! I-I-I was – I w-wouldn't-" she shook her head profusely, trying to shake off her embarrassment.

The man smiled, offering a faint chuckle to himself. _Children._ "Relax, relax! I believe you!" He assured her, watching as her face blushed further and gave a curt nod so as to not say something unprecedented again.

She was eating his food, lying on his couch, wearing a spare outfit he owned as her leathery dress was fixed and using the sheer energy of his presence to slowly heal her sore and wounded body. She was easing her battered body and soul off of a caretaker she swore, years ago, she would not need anymore.

And through it all, he could see her shame. Shame in herself as only a prideful Angel could feel. The shame that was driving her mad from the inside out.

She was gripping the arm of his couch tightly, shaking briefly before turning with a blushing red face and shouting:

"Thank you again for taking this worthless sheep into your home, Azazel-sama! I will be sure to pay back this immense kindness you have bestowed upon me a hundred times over! I swear it!"

One second, she was on the couch, the next, she was on her knees, bowing deeply to her keeper.

The man – now known as 'Azazel' – blinked at the display and words before laughing loud and deeply. "Alright, alright, enough of that. No need for the theatrics. I'm just glad you're alright. Can't tell you how nervous you made me, coming in as you did." That was a semi-lie. On any other day or circumstance, perhaps the words would have been more truthful. But he trusted his hired help to see his will done, and the results were to his liking. "Just relax. I'll make you another ramen cup! You know, I'm not sure why, but I have found them to be the most enjoyable things of late! Miso, pork, chicken – all of them! They really are delectable."

Raynare nodded. "T-that would be most kind, m-my lord." She stuttered out, as Azazel smiled and made his way into the kitchen, humming a tune as he made to make more food.

Raynare sat back on the couch. She was hardly watching…whatever-it-was that was on the black box. Her mind was elsewhere.

The blond. That blond, cold-blue-eyed man beat her. Sent her running with her wings in her arms and with a cold sweat to make things worse. He got her heart pumping like no foe ever had. She believed herself a growing elite in the Fallen Angel ranks. That her lack of experience in actual combat mattered little in comparison to the sheer mental, magical and physical training she put herself through to win over the affections and approval of her peers and superiors.

But he proved her wrong. She was nowhere _near_ ready for the title of 'Lord among the Fallen.'

How many times had she sweat and cried to get to where she was? How many had laughed at her ambitious attitude when she said she would be the next leader of Grigori? How had the grievances of those who put her down, not only of the Fallen Angels, only made her strive to prove she was not just a freeloader to her people? How could they point at her and say she was not a true Angel? She, the untrue child of Heaven?

And now, as she stood amongst the leaders of her faction on Earth, how must the others have looked at her when she was told to _babysit_ the Sacred Gear _pervert._

It was a wound; a wound to her pride and her belief in herself. That she had been placed, not among the defenders or caretakers of those who were truly holy under the sky of God, but as some crotch-huggers new nanny!

The idea made her want to _vomit_.

She stood by, for _weeks_, watching him. The disgusting little _toad_. His actions to the females around him made her no less impressed with the human race then she had been ten years ago.

Though, perhaps they were not cockroaches, she would admit bitterly. Her lords seemed to find something admirable about the growing population and their worth, though she could not see what they did. To her, they were the 'grounded.' Unblessed beings whom, only after accepting their rightful place as those below their true father, could ascend truly in value to her.

But Issei was beyond redemption. His attitudes were purely based on lust. How unbecoming, in all manners of the word. She couldn't even prevent his actions without direct interference, which was forbidden to her.

She lasted a month, watching him. One could hardly blame her when she decided to take matters into her own hands soon after that.

She figured this was a test. It had to have been! Sacred Gears were dangerous and this boy – _stupid_, though he was – could have posed a threat to the great faction of the Fallen Angels. Humans had done so before. Why would that change now? Her lord Azazel must have realized this, must have been testing her, to see if she had the qualities to take action and realize the danger for herself!

The boy was perverse incarnate. An evil quality. It had to be snuffed out before it could _fester_ and _grow_.

She told herself this throughout the time she knew him as Yuuma Amano. She even started to make it a game, feeling she earned as much. Maybe she would even get creativity points from her peers for the ingenious way she went about dealing with potential threat.

It had all been planned, almost realized.

And then _he_ showed up.

And now, here she was, licking her wounds and pride like some struck-down _puppy_!

Her fingers dug into the leathery couch. This was not over. Not by a longshot! This was a minor setback to a major dream she held – the desire to prove that the Fallen were _not_ just the outcasts that the other factions believed them to be. That they had hearts, feelings and power to challenge those who would see them crumble and fall back into the shadows of Perdition.

She would get stronger; prove her worth to _everyone!_ And when the time came and she found the strength to challenge that blond haired _hero_ she would -!

"Hey! Rayna-chan!"

The shout knocked the female Fallen Angel out of her internal rant, perking her up as she answered. "Y_-yes, my lord?_"

"You know, with everything that was going on, I almost forgot to ask: how did you get into such a mess, hmm?"

Raynare paused in thought. What would make her come out, wounded and sore, looking as she did?

"…I fell down some stairs."

"…You fell down some stairs?"

"Yes."

"…_Stairs?"_

"…There were a lot of them…"

* * *

**Alright! Phew! That actually took longer than I thought it would! Mostly because of the realization that I CANNOT WRITE FIGHTING SCENES!**

**Or, at least, they aren't my strong suit. I can see why Game of Thrones opts to skip them in their first book, mostly. They are just difficult – you want the cool fight scene that works to how the characters are but describing every quick action into realistic description for the mind to accurately portray and make imagery towards is not easy (and those were a lotta fancy words I just wrote there...pineapple).**

**But oh BOY! When I got to the end, I thought, 'you know what? This felt like a good, built up moment in the story. Good development, good humor at the end – I can live with it.'**

**Plus, now I have the next chapter all realized on how I want it to go, without issue. Should help me post it fast, I hope (don't quote me on that).**

**Double plus, I just found out three hours ago I got an INTERNSHIP!**

**CUE FLYING DOVES OF AWESOME!**

**I'm starting in three weeks! So psyched! Now, at least, my parents won't nag me for not being a productive member of society! Woot-woot!**

**Anyway, I hope this chapter was enjoyable. I know it didn't move as fast through time as the last chapter did, but I figure this will be my buildup chapter to next time (seriously, I came up with some EXCELLENT dialogue for the next chapter).**

**Also, to my growing fanbase (if I might be so bold as to claim I have such a thing), I just wanted to say 'MAJOR PROPS TO YOU GUYS' for being so awesome this last week. I only started this story recently - even just recently became a writer! - but I have only been given creative and productive words of advice to making my work as enjoyable and clean as it can be.**

**Some even helped come up with some solid side ideas that could really solidify the universe that Naruto now lives in.**

**Make it '_coolio_,' if you would.**

**It's only been two (well, technically three, now, with this new posting) chapters into this story, but I really do enjoy the words of advice and encouragement from you guys. ****And I know I can't answer all of your questions because, frankly, it is hard to hold back on potential ideas from the people who are the reason my story even is considered to be a good read at the present. If I answer one, it feels like I have to answer every question asked to me out of common courtesy.**

**But that doesn't mean I don't read every single review or PM you guys send me, trying to figure out new ways to expand and write characters beyond their canon counterparts. You guys make me want to consider every character as an advancement of the story. To push the plot and progression forward in unique, believable ways to a final showdown of epic proportions.**

**I don't believe in cannon fodder characters. I believe those are just characters that haven't been given the right limelight to show a side of them that can really make the story grand. ****And I hope to do that. Give readers an experience that makes them want to come back to read more, even _years_ later.**

**Whether it's Naruto, DxD, a crossover or whatever, I owe it to the people reading to give the best effort I can to whatever I put down on my Word Document!**

**(That last sentence sounded cooler in my head)**

**Enjoy the weekend! And happy May 1st!**


	4. Even Angels Enjoy Breakfast Joints

CHAPTER THREE: EVEN ANGELS ENJOY BREAKFAST JOINTS

_Kuoh Academy, Main Building, Next Day, 8:47 AM_

"_Hey, look! Look! There she is!"_

"Ohhh! She looks so _good!_ I'm so _jealous!"_

"How does she get her hair to look so amazing? Do you think it's natural?"

"I WISH I WERE YOU, RIAS!"

A red-haired young woman smiled to herself, not seeming to take note of the _common rabble_ that stood around her, ogling her, as she made her way through the front doors of the Academy.

The young woman – who held the name of Rias Gremory with _pride_ – was accurately portrayed and worshipped by her student body admirers. Rias was a fairy tall, slender woman, with a seemingly delicate frame that matched with her ample curves, peach-colored skin and long, _flawless_ legs. Her eyes were a deep, reflective blue and her long, captivating crimson hair held such a sense of _majestic _that every man who glanced in her direction felt their blood boil. She wore, like the rest of the female body, who now stood by with envy as they glanced over her _perfect_ features, the standard uniform, with exception to the fact her choice in appearance seemed to hold back very little of her rather…_gifted_ figure.

The situation she was walking into, where the students stood aside to watch her enter with her naturally acquired grace, was nothing new. Rias always held a strong sense of presence. This practice of the student body giving her space was almost a daily occurrence, with her natural allure and poise standing out amongst the students around her. Her confident stride hadn't changed in the three years since her enrollment. Rias held herself at a level, befitting her position, as one of the deemed 'Two Great Ladies' of Kuoh Academy.

She was the unobtainable; the beautiful President of the Occult Research Club. She didn't play to the crowd's affection; that wasn't her thing. She was a determined, confident woman who felt the need to do what was necessary – nothing more, nothing less. Mingling with her envious or lustful onlookers wasn't what she came to school to do.

Unlike the normal routine of arriving to the academy early, today was a twist from Rias's usual routine. For one, she was walking into the academy without her close confident, vice-president and best friend, Akeno Himejima. After all, the two had known each other, even prior to enrolling. They were almost always seen together, as Akeno also held the second title of one of the 'Two Great Ladies,' and to those who near-obsessed over the women on a daily basis, this might have struck them as odd. They weren't joined at the hip, though some boys might have dreamt of it, but it was of some note to the onlookers around the redhead.

Unknown to her observers, there was a twist to step that morning. Her stride was only slightly faster; her hands were tightly held fists; and her eyes scanned ahead for any unusual sightings.

She was nervous. And without her loyal friend by her side, even more so. Though a part of her knew that there was no reason to be, another part said that she should be wary.

Wary of what, though, was a subject of annoyance.

She wasn't in any danger. That, she was certain of. Of all the things that might have occurred during the day (or might not occur, as she silently hoped), fear of pain or retribution was not one of them.

She was mentally preparing herself, though. That, at least, was the most she could do.

She climbed the stairs passed her 'fans,' listening as the voices slowly drifted away, aiming for the second floor of the academy to enter her home room.

Honestly, why she was even surprised to find a mess of blond hair on a tall boy waiting for her at the top was beyond her.

He enjoyed it, she guessed. The surprise – the look people's faces when he appeared where you were heading or knew where to talk privately without anyone barring their reason for conversation. Glancing to the sides of the lengthy hall of the main academy building, she saw no wandering students or teachers coming to check out the disturbance between them. How the blond managed such a feat as to give them this limited amount of privacy eluded her.

Her blue eyes met his. He didn't have that innocent playfulness she often saw in them.

She watched him as he stepped off the wall. She reached the top of the second floor steps as he made his way to her. If she stood still it wasn't out of acknowledgment of the blond's presence. She was just coming to the knowledge that the boy was _not_ happy.

But that wasn't the unsettling part. He didn't seem angry, either. This left her with confusion to go along with her growing unease.

The boy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out something small and folded up neatly. Rias glanced to it, watching as he showed off the small flyer in his hands, hoping her face didn't show the surprise or lack of confidence to his presence. She recognized the symbols and runes; she had to have printed _thousands_ of copies of the same glyphic combination and understood what was being asked.

She pursed her lips. Prideful and confident Rias was caught with her hand in the cookie jar and she didn't have an explanation to give.

At least, not yet.

"I will send Kiba to pick you up after class," Rias's first words to the boy, despite her growing nerves, sounded strong and confident, not backing down or offering a stutter as she straightened her stature and looked at the blond staring her down. This would give her time – time to think of what to say or how to go about what the blond was surely going to ask. To even the playing field. She needed Akeno and her advice on how to handle the situation that _was_ coming. Akeno was just as aware of the blond's unprecedented occurrence at the mall area as she was and would certainly help her in assuaging the situation.

Thankfully, the blond was not unreasonable. He didn't say a thing back; just folded up the flyer, placed it in his back pocket, and stepped aside the red-haired princess of Kuoh Academy to walk to the first floor from where she came. Rias listened to his footsteps slowly dim in sound as they merged with the echoes of students conversing with one another below.

She didn't dodge the bullet. She just prolonged its time of impact so she could reach for the Kevlar.

She walked in the direction of class; her face finally took on a look of frustration and red to match her hair as she knew the school day was ruined for her. She would be thinking of her upcoming confrontation, which would leave her equal parts irritable, flustered and _hot_ from their moment together.

Because the boy who ruined her day was none other than Naruto Uzumaki. Her oldest friend; her childhood prankster; her unofficial nephew –

And the boy she _loved_.

* * *

_Classroom for Class 2B, Kuoh Academy, 5:02 PM_

Issei Hyoudou was asking questions.

Naruto didn't know what to make of this. Maybe his hope for a 'knock out, dream out' scenario with the Fallen Angel had been hoping for too much.

Sure, getting rid of the evidence from the boy's personal device helped in his erasing of Yuuma from Issei's existence. But Naruto realized, soon after waking from the night before, that everyone who came in contact with the young woman would be asking questions. That the people who knew 'Yuuma' would be going around, trying to find the missing girl.

_Maybe hoping it would blow over was a poor move on my part_, Naruto initially thought, as he made his way to the academy.

But his fears were unfounded. Because, to anyone Issei asked, the response was the same:

"Who's Yuuma?"

"Yuuma? I don't think I know a girl like that."

"You? With a girlfriend?" Snort.

And this continued. No one knew anyone by Issei's description. His lack of digital evidence didn't help matters either. He seemed confused and disoriented by what was going on; wondering if it was just some huge prank by his friends and classmates.

Naruto felt bad at that; the thought that you were part of some joke couldn't have been easy. Raynare, despite her hostility, seemed to be keeping her word and staying away from Kuoh and Issei. In fact, it was Naruto's suspicion that this mass erasure of 'Yuuma Amano's' existence was probably her doing. Cutting loose ends, perhaps? Oddly attentive for a Fallen Angel who just had her backside firmly handed to her.

But aside from the convenience of the erasure, it also came with the consequence of Issei, who seemed to have been missed on the erasing scheme. The boy was now desperate in his attempts at finding answers on Yuuma's whereabouts.

It made Naruto feel worse when Issei came to ask him about the last time he saw 'Yuuma Amano.'

"Yuuma Amano?"

"Yeah, at the park, remember?! Everyone seems to not know who she is but you saw her with me at the mall, right? You-you-!"

Naruto could tell the boy was trying to say how he fought her in a mid-air battle, seemingly to the death. But how do you describe that, believably? "Uh, sorry, uh, Eisie-"

"ISSEI!"

"Right, right, Issei. But, uh, I don't really remember a girl like that. I mean, if she was a good looking as you say she was," with the 'awesome body,' 'luscious hair,' and 'great tits,' as Issei described her, "then I think I'd remember her, right?"

Naruto played it off innocent. He didn't know Issei in public. He had to keep that illusion.

And Issei, confused and disoriented, didn't know how to react to it all. "No way," his eyes widened, "not even you?" He walked away after that, keeping largely to himself as the day passed by without much incident beyond the norm.

Naruto watched over him, even without it being a job of his anymore. He seemed depressed and even sulking quietly in his chair, but he didn't seem to be dying inside. With any luck, a couple days from now, Issei would just figure the whole thing was some wonderfully cruel dream.

But now, at the end of the day coming to a close, Naruto prepared himself to be summoned. And if there wasn't a better warning sound that now was the time to get moving, it was the sound of screaming girls that woke him to the new presence in the room.

* * *

Yuuto Kiba. The 'Star Pretty Boy' of Kuoh Academy and member of the Occult Research Club. A handsome young man with short, smooth blond hair, pale grey eyes and naturally soft-toned skin. He was of average height, perhaps just around Issei's stature, and wore the standard male school outfit, except with obvious amounts of care pushed into it, as the thing almost seemed to be pressed and cared for extensively by the boy. He was smart, athletic, kind and struck Naruto as very similar to a couple of old friends he once knew (both by the basis of name, exceptional ability in class and had the girls practically eating out of his hands). His mulling and considerate personality had a winning quality to it that made him easy to get along with.

He also happened to be a close friend of Naruto's for several years.

That was smart of Rias. Out of everyone in her little group, sending Kiba was probably best. He had a way of being the only sane guy in their group. Maybe he'd talk Naruto out of his little episode, Rias hoped.

"Kiba-kun! Ohhhh, Kibaaaa-kunnn!"

"W-what are you doing at this part of the school?"

"A-are you here to see me?"

"No! He's here to see me!"

The girls of Naruto's classroom, all surrounding the new addition to the room with smiles and blushing faces, made Issei, Naruto noticed, glare openly. Kiba's attention and natural success with women was the envy. Naruto even admitted he was surprised by how effective the pretty boy was with women, though not showing any particularly strong emotions to one in particular.

He was just kind and treated them equally. And that seemed to be enough.

"You're all looking lovely, this evening," Kiba spoke up from the center of the girl mob, as the girls quickly returned his praises with fervor.

Naruto mulled quietly for a moment, perhaps enjoying the show of female obsession, before sitting up, patting down his jacket over his shoulders, and walking to the object of womanly affection. It was time to get serious.

"Let's go," Naruto said, making sure his voice was heard over the girls as he patted Kiba on the shoulder to get his attention before moving past and towards the direction of the nearest main academy building exit.

Kiba saw his retreating form. His job of delivering him to his president was quickly being taken away from him. "Hey, Naruto! Wait up! _I'm_ supposed to deliver _you!_"

"Wait, Yuuto-san! Don't leave us!"

"Why are you leaving so soon?!"

"KIBA-KUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNN!"

* * *

_Kuoh Academy, Old School Building_

Naruto's walk was fast as Kiba made to keep up. All the way through the school grounds, Kiba attempted to persuade Naruto to loosen up on whatever he was clearly focused on. Though Kiba was unaware for the reasoning behind Naruto summons from the president, Kiba was there to see it through. He was Naruto's friend, after all, along with being the president's. He had no interest in seeing either of them fighting one another, if he could help it. So, using placating words of peace he'd learned from his sensei, Kiba attempted to slacken the hard-expression from Naruto's face, even a little.

Because he'd only seen Naruto get this way once before. And people got hurt.

"I'm telling you, Naruto, whatever the issue might be I am sure it is no reason to be upset about!"

Naruto was usually one for conversation. The fact he wasn't responding wasn't a good sign in Kiba's opinion. In fact, based around the complete twist in Naruto's personality, the young man had a clear idea in mind that something was, indeed, not in the norm for his long time friend. He was right.

Naruto navigated the familiar hallways of the Old School Building to the second floor. Coming to a door with lit candles at its sides, Naruto pressed it open and walked inside with a heavy stride.

The room was dimly lit, with several candles standing at or around the tables surrounding the room. There were a pair of comfortable couches surrounding a nicely set table in the middle of the room, with various bookshelves covering the walls, each filled with dozens of old scriptures that almost looked _archaic_ to the eye. There were old paintings adorning any free walls that could be found and the window in the room was closed to block off the view of the lowering sun from outside.

From his place at the door, Naruto noted he might have had trouble, once upon a time, figuring out the general layout to the comfortably designed room. The candles helped, but they weren't the most efficient of light sources. His past 'experiences' in 'dimly-lit' places and his new early life in the similarly lit Lucifer Mansion were the only reasons he wasn't squinting his eyes to get a clear view of everything around him.

As it were, as Naruto and Kiba entered the designated 'Club Room' of the Old School Building, Naruto realized Rias had thought her plan of dealing with Naruto quite well, because the two blonds were not the only individuals in the room.

Sitting on one of the couches, a young, silver-haired girl sat quietly to herself. She was an interesting addition to the room; she was certainly younger than the two gentlemen, but by how much was uncertain. She wore the high school variation of Kuoh Academy's dress code, but her appearance could not have been older than that of a middle school student. Indeed, looking at this young woman, Naruto was vaguely reminded of Gasper, both in stature and height.

Needless, though, Naruto recognized her.

"Koneko," Naruto greeted, his voice still hard but not unfriendly, as he moved into the room with Kiba.

The fifteen-year old – Koneko Toujou – looked up from her place on the couch. Naruto noticed a bar of chocolate on a toothpick being slowly savored by the girl. "Naruto-san," she greeted back, though the girl's tone was so monotonous, Naruto had difficulty telling if she was pleased to see him or not, "it's been awhile."

"A couple weeks, yes," Naruto replied, moving to sit in the opposite couch to Koneko's, as he made himself comfortable for Rias's arrival, "how have you and Kiba been?"

Kiba relaxed slightly. Naruto was talking now, at least, as Koneko answered him. "Fine," she finished the chocolate on the stick, reaching for another from the plate on the table between them. "You?"

Koneko was a girl of few words. "I've been busy."

"Hmm," Koneko took a bite of chocolate, "with what?"

"Oh, you know, _stuff_," Naruto answered with a shrug, studying his friends closely. Kiba looked confused at the word choice and Koneko offered nothing except for eating more chocolate. So he focused on Koneko. "You know why I'm here?"

"You found a club flyer."

"I did."

"Why's that a problem?"

"It was found under questionable circumstances."

"Questionable?"

"It was found under someone who was about to _die_."

Koneko went for another chocolate. "This has happened before."

"A bit of a coincidence, don't you think; especially with a Fallen involved?"

"Life's full of surprises."

"I know it is. This surprise, however, doesn't surprise me as it should."

"Hmm."

Kiba watched the two go back and forth with their bantering. He hardly understood the situation beyond what Akeno, the club's vice president, had given him. Naruto wanted words with Rias. That wasn't much to go off of, but he trusted his friends. Hearing there was trouble between them was…disconcerting.

Speaking of the vice president, Kiba turned his head as to just behind Naruto's couch to see the woman herself walk in. All smile and cute as she came.

Naruto turned his attention to Akeno Himejima. Like the rest of the occupants in the room, he'd known her for a long time; long before even their days at the academy. Akeno Himejima was a very elegant and gentle woman, with her easing personality offered both a motherly touch and a teasing edge to herself. She was of average height, with raven-colored hair that was easily longer than Rias's own, had it not been for the orange ribbon keeping it from hitting the ground. She was slim and _very_ well-endowed. Not even Naruto would deny that. Her eyes were violet and glistened playfully as she stepped beside Naruto, leaning over the couch.

Her smile was kind, peaceful, relaxed and so fake Naruto wondered when he'd ever get to see a real one.

"Oh my! Is Naruto-chan upset?" Akeno asked playfully, as Naruto tried to keep his face hard for his confrontation with Rias, though it was steadily getting hard to do so. Having friends around him made it difficult to stay frustrated, especially with their happy and playful (even in Koneko's case) attitudes.

It'd been awhile since they'd all gotten together like this. Naruto needed to frequent the Club Room more often, he guessed.

"Not upset," Naruto answered, "just curious what's going on." He reached into his pocket to pull out the flyer, "I assume you knew about this."

"I did." Akeno said, reaching over to pluck the flyer from his hands, "Rias and I noticed how much _attention_ Issei Hyoudou was getting and decided we wanted to figure out why."

Naruto's lips pursed. "Without giving him a choice?"

Akeno brushed ruffles from her skirt. "It wasn't our place to interfere with Fallen Angel matters."

"So you'd let him die?" Naruto's voice didn't have an edge to it like he thought it should.

Akeno seemed ready for his question. "Save one human boy and start a war with the city's Fallen Angels? Or turn him after the Angel's tasks were done, without provocation or irritation on either faction's parts?" Akeno pushed away from the couch. "It seemed like an easy decision."

Naruto paused for a second. _That's right_._ They don't know that the Angel's attack was unsanctioned._

That helped. A little. Maybe. In growing age, Naruto realized the world was more gray then black and white. He understood that but didn't change his opinion on some choices that irked his sense of right and wrong. Even with being 'raised' under a household of Devils, the recent actions of his friends nipped at the edges of his moral conscience.

"Rias and I were expecting some sort of signal from the flyer the night before," Akeno continued, moving around the couch to lay beside Naruto, looking collected and calm as ever, "imagine our surprise when nothing came. So, we had our little 'team mascots' keep an eye on the situation." Akeno's hand was raised, as brief flicker of a small, green and fat _oni_ appeared before disappearing into thin air. Her 'team mascots,' as they were.

"Now, imagine our surprise _after_ they tell us _you_ were fighting the Fallen Angel."

Kiba was standing beside the couch, listening and trying to fill the blanks from information he wasn't given prior. He wasn't used to being out of the loop. This didn't annoy him, but it did require him to study the two halves of the arguing party in the room.

Naruto, to his credit, didn't seem fazed at the accusation. "I was taking a walk. Saw what was going on, thought I could help."

"That's very kind of you to help a stranger like that."

"He's a classmate of mine. Felt wrong to just leave him for an Angel."

"I don't doubt you."

Akeno's smile was unwavering. Naruto's eyes narrowed in slight annoyance. "Yes you do."

"Oh my! You wound me, Naruto-chan! Would I lie to you? You know I believe you are a good, kind man." She placed her hand on her chest, smiling but trying to come off as offended for being accused of such a thing as to lie to one of her favorite persons in all the worlds.

Naruto pursed his lips. Rias was playing chess with his emotions, weakening him before he could confront her on what was going on. And sadly, Naruto felt it was working.

"Where's Rias?"

"Right here," a voice yelled from behind the group, as they all turned to see Rias Gremory walk into the room, a towel in her hand as she dried the last bits of loose hair from her face. Obviously, she was using the building's shower system again, "I apologize for my delay, Naruto. I was so tired from work the night prior I didn't get a chance to clean myself this morning." In truth, her panic during the day caused her to sweat and smell before long. She used the shower to up her confidence and add additional time to think over what to say to her blond 'nephew.'

Naruto stood from the couch. "That's fine," he said, hoping the edge in his voice was still there to show his disapproval of her recent actions taken, "though I was hoping we could talk in private."

Rias nodded, putting the towel away to side. This is what she expected and, perhaps, even wanted a little. "That will be fine," she said, turning to her club mates, "Akeno, will you inform Kiba on any missing details? I wasn't very vocal about the situation earlier."

Akeno nodded, standing beside Naruto as she smiled and gave a curt bow to Rias, "As you wish, Buchou." She motioned to Koneko and Kiba to the door, as the two regular members of the club made their way out in a disciplined manner.

Akeno moved around Naruto and towards the door, but not before offering him a slight touch of her hand to his own. It was a simple brush of her fingers but Naruto thought he understood her message.

_Be gentle_.

Rias made her way around the room, sitting down to her desk and moving into a position she liked. She was arranging her position as president and 'top dog' of the room she and Naruto now occupied. "So," she started off, "what would you like me to say?"

Naruto walked over to the front of her desk. As he did so, Rias noticed how tall he stood in comparison to her sitting position. This was a challenge. "I want to know why you would do such a thing."

His voice wasn't playful. He wanted his answers and he was using an intimidation position to get them. But Rias was proud and strong. She wasn't one for intimidation.

She sat up straighter, meeting his hard expression with her own. "In what regard do you refer to?"

"Why were you attempting to convert Issei Hyoudou into your little," Naruto tried to think of a word for what Rias little 'group' was. The original word and terms of Rias's…, "c_lub_."

It was, perhaps, looking back now, because of his apathetic nature towards the true word of Rias's group that made it so easy to take the first strike against Naruto in this argument between the two. Rias saw it. Naruto realized only too late in his wording that he appeared weak in his incapability of saying that 'one word.'

And Rias jumped him on it.

"_Peerage,_ Naruto," her tone was every bit the Gremory heir she was meant to be, standing smoothly from her chair to look at the boy at eye level, "the word is _peerage_. I wanted Issei in my _peerage._ I wanted him to become a Devil's _servant_. _To me_."

Then, for added effect, Rias allowed her wings to slide from their hidden position, winning the first round in her morality debate in a flashy display.

* * *

A Devil's Peerage. A fancy word for a fancy group; a Devil's Peerage was a group of individuals - humans, in-humans, beasts and so on - who were turned into Devils.

To go over the vastness of history around how this thing called a 'Peerage' came to be, looking back to the Great War of the Three Factions and the Civil War of the Devils would be the precipice for even the need for the order of a Peerage. The two wars that shook the Devil foundation left the structure of the 72 Pillars, and even the order of Devilkind, on the brink of collapse. The Angelic factions were stronger than they were – stronger than the original opposition to their defense. If such a thing remained, the Devils believed, in retaliation, the Fallen and the Angels might unify themselves once more in the face of a common, weakened foe.

And that is when the idea of a defensive plan, created amidst the Great Satans and High Lords of the Underworld was formed.

The idea of the Devil's Peerage.

Originally developed by the Great Satan, Ajuka Beelzebub, Ajuka saw this method as not only a way to offer defense against potential threats, but also as a way to replenish the number of Devil warriors amongst their ranks. After all, like with every Faction involved in the Great War, not every citizen was bred or built for combat. Through searching for capable warriors from any race, with using either willing or desperate consent, a Devil could transform an individual into a being of the Underworld; to live, join and fight for their new race.

These new Devils were referred to as 'Reincarnated Devils.'

The High Lords, who were given dominion over the idea and allowance to create Peerages of their own, were astounded by this idea. And indeed, it was brilliantly thought of. This system would, and could, insure their continued thriving culture. Heck, with the new additions into the Society, culture would _evolve_ with new ideas and perceptions. And, as an added incentive to the newly joined or hesitant, the opportunity that even a non-pureblood Devil might be able to achieve high position among all who lived in the vast Underworld was also readily made known (so long as their worth was proven through hard work and determination).

The method appeared to be a strong step forward in the form of developing a newer, more openly accepted Devil Society.

But, as with any newly crafted system, it was not without flaws.

Ajuka was limited by how much a Devil could spread their existence. Because, despite Angelic belief, Devils truly did have souls, and with every individual a single Devil turned, a piece of their existence twisted and morphed into the intended target. This method changed their anatomy and allowed the ability to channel and use demonic energy freely. This alchemic technique was very effective and popular amongst most of the population.

But, to the matter of souls, a Devil could only recover after spreading their existence out so much without permanent or influenced injury. Ajuka estimated, with a competent Devil of strength and power, roughly fifteen spreads of existence, or so, was enough to not cause permanent damage to either party. Ajuka spread this knowledge to his people and developed a way to create a controlled method of transference of essence, using a High-Class Devils power, who he assumed would be the only ones to meet the bear minimum of capability and strength for the transference process to work.

He created, based off his favorite human game, the controlled Peerage-making tools known as the 'Evil Pieces.'

The Evil Pieces were a marvel of innovation; a true power of creativity by Devilkind. Ajuka was praised for his accomplishments, which he took nonchalantly. He was an inventor. He enjoyed his work because it was work worth doing. The Evil Pieces comprised the power of Devilkind essences into five categories and numbers: one Queen, two Rooks, two Bishops, two Knights, and eight Pawns. Each group of Piece offered selective abilities that enhanced those given one, and were given a system of worth as that of what perceived Pawns were worth.

The Queen; the least given type of Evil Piece to a High-Class Devil, but also the believed most powerful. They are commonly worth nine Pawns in the game of chess and Evil Piece worth. They held aspects of power similar to the Rooks, Knights and Bishops, although perhaps not to the same extent. This was the top gun of a Peerage ruler.

The Rook; an attack and defense type Evil Piece given to a High-Class Devil. These were the brutes of one's Peerage. They are commonly worth five Pawns in the game of chess and Evil Piece worth. They held immense offensive and defensive power, though weren't commonly known for huge amounts of speed.

The Bishop; the magical expert Evil Piece given to a High-Class Devil. These were the healers and sorcerers of one's Peerage. They were worth equivalently three Pawns. Their magical abilities were unparalleled, but physically were not the most excelled by their reincarnation into Devils.

The Knight; the speed and mobility Evil Piece given to a High-Class Devil. They were the cavalry men. They, like Bishops, are worth three Pawns. Their speed is greatly enhanced to incredible levels. Their physical abilities are also enhanced, except not nearly to the level of a Rook's.

The Pawn; the most given type of Evil Piece to a High-Class Devil. They are unique in their unusual structure of being able to take over aspects of the other types, depending on where they stand in the world of battle. With the permission of the Peerage leader, they can take on the aspects of Knight, Bishop, Rook, or even Queen when spurred. They are the most underrated of pieces, but also potentially the most dangerous.

An effective method of growth for Devilkind. And a Peerage's lord, who was referred to as their 'King,' was named, so did the masses feel that it would be appropriate to name their Peerage members. After all, calling them by their piece names felt inappropriate so the High Lords gave them one.

Whether it was said with initial ill intent or not, the members of a Peerage were dubbed a King's 'Servants' before long.

As time went on, and this practice enhanced the Devil world with new types of people and ideas, a new found game was created by the Devils of the Underworld, using illusion and temporary reality creating abilities. This idea surrounded around the idea of a game to battle two 'Kings' and their peerages against one another. This was to offer entertainment for the masses, as well as an opportunity for Devils to advance in society.

The Rating Game.

But more on that later.

* * *

Back to the present, Rias Gremory challenged her old friend with her desire to enhance her Peerage with a new member. Currently, her member count consisted of four Servants, with Akeno being her Queen, Koneko being her Rook, Kiba being her Knight and Gasper being her Bishop. Sadly, Gasper was hardly useful at the current moment. Naruto would even attest to that. So, at the moment, the Legendary Devil House Gremory's heir was very limited in her number of working pieces.

This wasn't just a matter of pride to her and why she had very few members to her Peerage, who, on a secret way of basis, formed the membership of the Occult Research Club, but also out of respect. Eventually, Rias would be expected to participate in the world of Devils. And she needed a full team; her current one was sorely lacking in numbers and strength.

Naruto didn't approve of certain aspects to the system. Most notably, it was when members of a Peerage were given the title of 'Servant.' It wasn't much to grow angry towards, but he'd heard the word said too many times in the Underworld, with it being used more often than not as an insult, that he felt aggressive to it. It wasn't by a large number, but it was a number he saw that affected other peerage members differently. Naruto could take the hits and blows. He'd dealt with ridicule, once. He knew what it felt like. But insult those he cared about…

"I know you don't like the system, Naruto. It's not perfect," Rias spoke up, continuing from where she left off, "but I hoped you would realize that I am not exactly in a position to ignore potential powerhouses right now. I am _low_ on players for my side of the board. If Issei is powerful, I could really use that power _now!"_

"He deserved a chance," Naruto stated, recovering from Rias's calling on his miss-wording. His voice, thankfully, was the same level of even it was before. "He deserved the right to choose if he wanted to be a Devil. He deserved to not be seen as only a _piece_ on your _board!_" His tone rose, and he saw Rias grimace. Good, that was one for him. "I'm not _barring_ the system," Naruto cleared up, before Rias could jump on that perceived ideal, "it's done more good than bad but if we start taking people without offering them a chance to say yes or no in the first place, we aren't any better than the Devils who take their members to the Underworld." It wasn't unheard of for someone to have died and been forcibly revived by a Devil, looking for his or her power to add to his or her Peerage. It was, thankfully, not looked positively upon, and the Underworld was changing for the better in the treatment of Peerage members.

But a slow road to change meant suffering until then.

And Rias did not want to be compared to those _grave robbers_. "And I agree! He _did_ deserve that. All of that!" She countered. "But with that Fallen Angel nipping at Hyoudou-san's sides, I couldn't get close without causing a situation. It seemed reasonable! Who just wants to die because of some fearful _bird_ without provocation? If I brought him back, he would have a chance of a longer, even more successful life," She shook her head, falling to her seat. She ran fingers through her hair, agitated, "We're running out of time, _Naruto_. I don't do bad things because they're easy. _Not intentionally_. I do them because they are _necessary_. And we _both_ know what's coming up. And if you aren't going to help me, _actively_, then desperate methods are needed. I can't stop this alone and _we_ know it!" Rias put heavy emphasis into her words. She hoped they reached him. Stubborn, though, he could be.

Naruto crossed his arms, taking a step back. Of course he knew what she was talking about. It was something Naruto spent nights thinking about how to get around, desperate to find answers. As a favor to her.

But still –

"Winning a war at the sacrifice of good people and morality isn't how we do things," he told her. "I promised I would help you, but these actions aren't how we go about winning or getting ahead. Not when the methods mean the sacrifice of who you are in the process." He uncrossed his arms, moving up to the desk and leaning over it to look at the president at eye level. "I'm not happy about you trying to go behind my back with this. In fact, I'd say I'm _disappointed_ more than anything," Rias's eyes narrowed, as she opened her mouth to retort before Naruto spoke over her. "But you're desperate. I can…_relate_ to how that can make even smart people do things they wouldn't usually. So this time, I'll let it go," for the first time since entering the room, Naruto's lips offered a hint of a smile. "You're strong, Rias-chan," despite herself, Rias offered a small smile at the 'chan' part. Good to know he was still willing to call her that, "you're stronger than people give you credit for. Don't forget that. We'll figure out what to do, in an _honest _way. And when we do, we'll talk about this, years from now, and _laugh."_

She let her tense features loosen somewhat. _Maybe this wasn't as bad as I thought._ "Alright, alright. I'll believe it _when_ I see it." She shook her head, letting a small smile cross her face as Naruto smile brightened a little more. She stared at him kindly. "Speaking of honesty, however, I must ask: what about _you?_ You fought the Fallen Angel. Was it _really_ to just save your classmate?"

_Ah. She heard that_. He thought, looking at her. She looked more relaxed now that this fight was, sort of, out of way. Her eyes were innocent. She'd believe him, no matter what he said.

"Yeah, it was," Naruto answered, "I saw the Angel and went to see if there was in any trouble. Turns out, there was." He offered a shrug and a smile, and Rias giggled at his nonchalant attitude. Lying like this made him ill, if only because of how easy she believed him. But he had no choice. Something was going on with his employer; before he dragged his friends into anything potentially war-inducing, he wanted to figure out what exactly it was.

But the way Rias held such faith in the idea he was telling the truth…

"Alright, good to know, good to know." Rias laughed loudly, knocking the blond-youth from his silent musing as he stared up to her bright features. Rias let her arms stretch out above her, letting what remained of the tension die with a couple of cracks in her shoulders, "Now then, I don't suppose you could send the others back in, would you? I think it's about time we started getting our orders settled for the evening."

Naruto nodded. The flyers, like the one he found in Issei's pocket, were meant to offer humans a way of summoning one of Rias's peerage to them to perform any action or request with their power; magical, physical or otherwise. It was a way for Devils to rise in ranks and power as an interesting method of service giving, as a completed pact or contract between a human and a Devil gave the Devil some small amount of energy by the human, which was easily recoverable by the human, but was precious to a Devil as a means of enhancing their powers, slowly but surely.

"Yeah yeah, I'll get 'em." Naruto said, letting himself relax as he walked out the door. Naturally, Rias's peerage was waiting, sitting in chairs and on a small couch in the hallway. Naruto pointed a thumb at Rias through the door. "She'll see you now."

Perhaps noticing Naruto's much lighter mood, Kiba's worried expression faded as he stood and made to get to their nightly duties. Akeno slowly walked by Naruto, giving a quick hand squeeze in appreciation that nothing was broken, before following along with Kiba.

Naruto smiled at Akeno's pleased look, before he felt a tug on his arm. Looking down, Koneko held out her arm to him.

"Out of candy," she said, "give me more."

Naruto blinked. "I don't have candy."

She stared at him. "Yes you do."

"Uh, no, I don't. I gave some to Gasper a week ago, but-"

"Give me candy."

"I'm telling you, I haven't had time to pick up anymore-"

"Give me candy."

He stared at her. "I don't have candy." He held out his hands. "You could strip me and you won't even find a tootsie roll."

"Did someone say 'strip'?"

"No, Akeno!"

Koneko stared at Naruto hard. "You don't have candy?"

"No! I'm out!"

She stared at him for a long moment.

"…I greatly dislike you at the moment, Naruto-san."

Koneko lowered her arm, staring at the blond for only a moment before walking around the somewhat-stunned young man and entering the Club Room quietly; closing the door with a loud 'slam' after.

Naruto stared quietly at the closed door for a few brief moments. Silently, he wondered how someone who hardly smiled or expressed emotion beyond a desire for sugary-goodness could sound so angry; monotone voice and all?

"…"

It was hard to please his girls.

* * *

_Granny U.S.A's Breakfast and Brunch Diner, 2 Miles from Kuoh Academy, Next Day, 7:23 AM_

Mr. Dohcee enjoyed his Tuesday breakfast like any man should.

He enjoyed his coffee, he enjoyed his toast, he enjoyed the sound of bacon grilling on a stove – the whole concept of breakfast was a near _obsession_ to the man. In fact, it was his dream, simple as it might have been, to travel the world and try every breakfast there was. An odd dream, to be sure, but it didn't stop there. He wanted lunch, too. And dinner! He wanted barbecues and airline food and multicourse meals and second breakfasts (which he was certain was not the same as having a second meal during breakfast, but something else entirely)!

He wanted to try the vast world of food that was open to him. And if that put him into a negative light, so be it! He more than earned his position to be a _glutton_, if he did say so himself.

At the moment, on that particular morning, Mr. Dohcee was walking into a _suave_, if he was so bold as to call it, diner around the corner from his little home in the city. The Diner was called 'Granny U.S.A's Breakfast and Brunch Diner.' Or 'Granny's,' as was the simpler name.

Mr. Dohcee was quite fond of Granny's. Going into the place, he felt younger. The diner was always lit and serving wonderful scents. The workers always seemed the same – a waitress, a cook and the owner, who helped serve coffee to his favorite customers, himself. The atmosphere was vibrant and warm and a bright light from the outside world, with today in particular starting off rainy and a bit dreary for Mr. Dohcee's taste.

In truth, he came to the diner every two weeks, ever since he came to town, to try their new, bi-weekly specials. They were always large, delectable treats, smothered in whatever sugary product the cook could find. In fact, Mr. Dohcee would even go so far as to say the man was an _artist._ For such a small business, the cook truly flourished with his spatula and whisk. He prided himself in the names of his works, the new techniques he thought up, and the designs – oh! _The designs_ – of his masterpieces could make high class chefs _tremble_ in magnificence to his passion and ingenuity.

Indeed, no place on earth, at least to Mr. Dohcee, was like Granny's. It was his reprieve – his haven – from the troubles of his world. It was his peace of mind and the place to fill his unfulfilled taste buds.

Walking in, after ensuring no drops of rain would besmirch the sacred ground of Granny's, Mr. Dohcee, with his commonly worn gray trench coat and _snazzy_ black fedora, walked in with a smile.

"Good morning!" Mr. Dohcee yelled, making his presence known to the few early breakfast eaters and workers in the room, who turned around to stare at the brightly cheerful man and replied back.

"Good morning!" It was a common practice of Mr. Dohcee's when he walked into Granny's, smiling to himself with an absolutely _jolly_ laugh and kick to his step as he made his way to the front counter.

The owner was already there, waiting for him, as they both smiled to one another. "Good morning to you, Mr. Dohcee!"

"And good morning to you, my good man Freddy!" Mr. Dohcee replied back fondly to the Japanese speaking American – a fairly large, balding but jolly looking elderly man who went by the name 'Frederick' but reserved 'Freddy' for his close friends – as they exchanged their bi-weekly greeting with smiles and no small amount of chuckles. "And what might I be expecting for this week's special?"

The anticipation in his favorite routine customer's voice made the owner glow with pride. "Ahhh, yer gonna be happy with this week's! Yasuo's really outdone himself, ya hear!" Yasuo, a man in his early-twenties with tan skin, a tall build and a growing goatee turned from his stove behind Mr. Freddy and gave a friendly wave to their frequent customer.

Mr. Dohcee waved back. "Well that sounds wonderful! Get me one of those!" He yelled, earning a bark of laughter from both men behind the counter.

"Already ordered!" Freddy replied. "Yer friend ordered it for ya twenty minutes ago!"

There was a pause in the jolly feeling in the air. Mr. Dohcee blinked, still smiling. "My friend?"

"Aye! That guy in yer spot over there!" Mr. Dohcee turned to where the elderly man's finger pointed. "Been waiting for you to arrive all mornin'! Says he'd a friend of yers." Freddy paused then. "Uh, he is yer friend, yes?"

Mr. Dohcee stared at the young man in his spot, who turned his head to him and waved, smiling. Mr. Dohcee didn't smile or wave, just turning back to the owner of the diner and offering a small smile. "He is an acquaintance, yes."

Freddy stared at him curiously. "Ya sure?" His customer nodded slowly, looking slightly uncomfortable as Freddy looked over Mr. Dohcee carefully, looking for lies. After a moment, he nodded. "Well, alright. If you say so." He gave a nudge towards the man in Mr. Dohcee's regular spot. "I'll have Katsumi send for yer drinks, soon."

"That sounds lovely, thank you," Mr. Dohcee turned, the wind seemingly out of his bright, cheerful sails, and walked over to the teenager in his spot of the diner.

Naruto watched as 'Mr. Dohcee' approached him carefully. Despite the man's tense walk, Naruto appeared quite cheerful and relaxed. Even as 'Mr. Dohcee' sat in the booth opposite of him, Naruto just smiled.

Then, as was respectable, the new occupant to the booth offered his hellos, first.

"Naruto," he greeted, taking off his hat and placing it to the side. His cheerful mood seemed dulled now.

"Dohnaseek," Naruto greeted in return, watching as the man shifted irritably in his spot. He didn't, apparently, like to be called out by his _real_ name.

Despite what the occupants of the small diner were aware of, in truth, the man sitting in front of Naruto was the Fallen Angel Dohnaseek; a lower rank member of the Fallen Angel society but a man of considerable knowledge and worth, nonetheless. 'Mr. Dohcee' was a play on the trench coat wearing man's name, of course. Appearing as a rugged, middle aged man, Dohnaseek took pride, in what Naruto called, his 'boy-cosplayed Carmen Sandiego' outfit.

He thought he looked 'cool.' Naruto just laughed.

But back to the present, Naruto watched the man look around to see if anyone heard Naruto's addressing him by his true name. They didn't. Naruto was sure of it.

"It's been awhile," Dohnaseek – _Mr. Dohcee_ – replied, trying to regain his composure. He didn't like the sanctity of his small paradise ruined by anyone. Especially someone like Naruto.

"It has."

"How's life on your side of life, hmm? Still the…oh, what was it again? The 'Lap Dog' of Gremory?" Dohnaseek's presence was starting to feel hostile, though his face was still a mask of confidence and calm. Insulting the blond was a way to try and cool himself off.

Who knew he was such a territorial wreck?

Still, Naruto's smile dropped. "I hate that name."

"And yet, it's a surprisingly accurate one." He said, this time letting out a small grin as he dug into the blond. His invasion of privacy was going too far, though he wouldn't say it. Usually, he was more cordial. But Granny's was _his_ place. Not Naruto's! Or any other Angels or Devils, for that matter!

But again, Dohnaseek found insults calming. He couldn't outright yell at Naruto in the diner. That would cause a scene he didn't want. Naruto accepted his penchant for foul words in the brief time he'd known the Fallen Angel. All Naruto could do was clench his fist and ignore him.

"So," the fedora wearing _bastard_ spoke up, reaching for a menu and looking over the pictures of delectable substances on it, helping to calm him, "how have you been holding up lately, hmm?"

No insult. He was accepting the blond (hopefully). "Fine," Naruto admitted, "I've been doing side jobs wherever I can find 'em when Rias isn't nipping for me to go full time for her."

Mr. Dohcee nodded, figuring as much. From the time he'd known Naruto, he'd realized the boy intensely enjoyed his little work on the side; certainly enjoying it more than his regular routine of earning an education at the city's fine public institute of learning or being the 'Gremory's bitch.'

In his brief time of being familiar with the youth, the Fallen Angel would admit to some understanding of the child's need for excitement or an alteration from common sights or backgrounds. A little time away from home did wonders, as any Fallen Angel would attest to, as well.

In the case of the blond, the boy's little 'business-escapades' gave him both financial retinue and adventure all at once. And with his unique standard of skills, he was well worth the price for anything anyone was willing to pay for.

'Mr. Dohcee' wouldn't admit this much to anyone, however, and so continued to instead look over his menu. "Making good money?" He casually asked.

Naruto slouched in his booth. "No," he groaned, throwing his hands through his hair, irritably, as Dohnaseek raised a curious eyebrow, "I keep working for free because of some sob story they keep selling me. Either that, or I owe someone a favor." The blond laid back further in his seat. "So no. Not good money."

"Hmm." The Angel responded without little care, returning his attention back to a delicious looking pancake at the bottom of his menu and trying to contain the drool slowly building in his mouth.

Naruto watched the man's odd fascination with the plastic diner-item. "What about you?" He asked, breaking the silence. "Job hunting again?"

This seemed to knock the fun out him. "Yeah. Got axed last week at the McRonalds up near the church. Accidently ate half their storage." He shrugged, trying to blow the failure off, though he owed rent this coming week. Not all Fallen Angels were exactly loaded. "Lasted three weeks, though." He admitted lastly, which to him was very good news.

And apparently, news to Naruto. "Three weeks?"

Dohnaseek paused in his reading. He knew where the blond was going with this. "_Don't._"

"No, seriously, _three?_"

"Bite me."

"What's that, like, three days over your record? Do you get a button for that? S-should I throw you a party?"

The playful joshing was not to the Angel's liking. Dohnaseek was a proud man; admitting or even playfully mentioning his shortcomings in any sort of negative light was, perhaps, one of his truly great weaknesses.

Shown all the more when he slammed his menu onto the table, meeting the blond's blue eyes with his steely own. "I will _leave. Right. Now-!"_

"Who's Raynare?"

And like that, before it could start, Dohnaseek's tirade was cut short by the interruption. Naruto studied him; watching as the the Angel's face loosened and slacked at the reference to the name. Before, the playful jabbing had been fun but now it was time to get the answers to his questions...

...Which is roughly when Katsumi the waitress came walking up to their small table. "Mr. Dohcee! It's great to see you again!"

'Mr. Dohcee's' attention immediately switched from Naruto to the waitress, smiling brightly. "Same, my dear! How are you?"

"I've been doing wonderful, _thank you._" She replied, as Mr. Dohcee noticed a subtle glance on her part back to the cook behind the counter. He kept his knowing smile hidden.

"Oh, don't you mention it!" He lifted up his menu again, pretending he hadn't memorized every inch of the menu several times over, before smiling back to the young woman. "I'll just have a coffee. Plenty of cream and sugar, of course."

"Of course!" Katsumi knew that was his usual. He was such a sweet gentleman - always so kind! She'd worked her for a long time but never knew anyone who could brighten an early morning like him. "And for you, young man?"

"He'll have a bottle." Dohnaseek answered for the blond before Naruto could even open his mouth.

Katsumi blinked. "What?"

The Fallen only smiled. "A water bottle. He told me himself." He smiled brightly, as Katsumi smiled back and nodded, writing it down on a notepad before moving back behind the counter.

Dohnaseek turned to the now annoyed blond.

He smiled to him. Naruto kicked him under the booth.

"OW!"

"Who's Raynare, _pimp-dick?"_ Naruto asked grumpily, losing his temper while remembering why he hardly hung with the only semi-reasonable Angel he knew.

And that was because he was only _semi_-reasonable. "How do you know her?"

"She isn't in the normal Fallen garrisons stationed in Japan. I know. I _checked_. So what is she?"

Dohnaseek was still rubbing his hurt ankle. "And _why_ should I tell you _anything?"_

Naruto was ready with the favor owed. "Because of that little problem you let loose near the Vatican."

Dohnaseek, too his credit and irritation, had the good grace to look surprised. "Oh. Right. That. With the tentacles and the slime and the – right, right, forgot about _that."_

Naruto stared at him. "How could you forget the hundreds of Angels that descended to pierce my rear-hind full of holy spears? How could you forget how that _thing_ nearly poisoned the entire ecosystem of the Mediterranean?! How could you forget meeting the _pope?!_"

"It was a _Tuesday_, right?"

"_Dohna-!"_

"Fine, fine! Shhh!" He whispered harshly, again scanning the cafe for anyone who might have heard him. "Just remember I can't tell you _everything,_ right? Security reasons, you understand."

Naruto nodded, both in understanding and finally getting somewhere. This was the Dohnaseek he preferred. "Then what can you tell me?"

The Angel paused, looking up to the ceiling as he seemed to gather his thoughts on the elusive Ms. Raynare, "Raynare was born of the union of two Fallen Angels. The product of their sin of _lust_. Parents died by Manticore when she was young around the First World War. Passed onto Azazel's care soon after. Been looking after her ever since."

Naruto nodded as he listened. This was good. Simple, but information was good. "Anything else?"

Dohnaseek stroked his chin. "Uh, _yeah_. I remember she had the good old sin of pride keeping her from the topside. But recently? She's got the sin of wrath burning in her. Don't know what brought it up but it's been bad for a while. Not many Fallen like those wrath types. Can get a little too on edge for our tastes."

Naruto listened carefully. Sins of pride, wrath, lust – each Fallen Angel had an abundance of a Seven Deadly Sin in them. They organized and related themselves by this code. Some were extreme cases, some were mild. Some changed to different forms of sin over time. It wasn't uncommon and was accepted because that was just who they were.

And now, a _wrathful_ Fallen Angel was running amok. Awesome.

But one thing caught his attention. "_You're_ not a Wrathful Fallen?"

Dohnaseek stared at him. "I'm a Glutton. That's my sin. I enjoy my food – there's nothing wrong with that."

"And the occasional _blood bath_, from what I hear."

Dohnaseek thought on that. "Well, a good fight now and then does keep life interesting."

_Figures._ "So, Raynare's just angry?"

"Oh, she's a gas tank put too close to _Hellfire!_ Never know when she's gonna blow! And she's recently developed a bit of a _sadistic_ _streak_ to go along with it. Azazel's been keeping her on a short leash – keeping her on earth and out of the Underworld – and she's none too happy about it. Been lashing out, from what I heard."

Whatever he heard was right. "Doesn't sound like the most harmonious relationship between the two."

"Oh, Raynare worships the ground Azazel walks on!" The Angel exclaimed. "And Azazel is about as doting as a surrogate father can get. But that doesn't mean it's all hunky-dory here on earth. She feels she's _entitled_ to a higher position then whatever Azazel's got her doing. _And_ she's very vocal about it." Dohnaseek sighed, seemingly getting his high from staring at a breakfast menu, before putting it down and staring at the blond. "So, what's got your interest in her?"

It was a legitimate question. One Naruto had no problem answering. "She tried to jump in on a job of mine."

"Oh?"

"Didn't kill her."

"You never do."

"But this whole situation with her has left me on edge." Naruto admitted, looking out the window of the diner to the rain.

There was something he didn't understand yet. Why stop Raynare? From what he got, Azazel would have preferred if Issei died. The boy was dangerous. Whatever he had in him, it was a risk. So why not deal with it? It might have been the ninja in him, but a risk that could threaten an entire faction was something to put down. It was harsh, but reality.

He closed his eyes in irritation, groaning silently.

This situation was all so _political_.

"Alright, gentlemen!" A female yell came from Naruto's side, waking him as his eyes widened. "A water for you. One coffee for you. And," the largest plate Naruto had ever seen came crashing down in front of Dohnaseek; easily being half the size of the table, "one _special_ for our _favorite customer!"_

Dohnaseek looked like he won the lottery. His eyes were _watering_.

The All American Freedom Special: a large pancake topped off with syrup, bacon, hash browns, sausage, cream, sugary powder, scrambled eggs – all of which seemed to be placed accordingly to make it seem, in an almost impossible way, like a bald eagle was sitting comfortable in front of the United States' flag.

Naruto stared at him, the mess of food, then back to him. "Really? _Really?_"

Dohnaseek pulled a fork from his pocket and stabbed it into a sausage. He seemed to _melt _from the taste.

"_It's __**American**_**_._**" He practically cried, quickly taking another bite. "By the way, you're paying for this. Be sure to leave a big tip."

* * *

_Outskirts of Kuoh Academy, Next Day, Wednesday, 5:24 PM_

Kuoh Academy.

For Naruto Uzumaki, Academy life was an interesting endeavor. This was in no small part due to academy students being held at high standards of exceptional ability. It, in turn, required Naruto to show some similar levels of enthusiasm and determination to excel. This wasn't exactly _easy_; Naruto passed a basic 'academy life' before; was educated and learned from several esteemed teachers and scholars. And while the material of this new world was different – history alone was fascinating – the task of actually staying in a seat for several hours a day, listening and doodling down what was heard, was _not_ enjoyable.

When he was Hokage, sitting in a chair, mulling over his village's needs and wants was far easier than this. He was a mature man in the body of a youth. He felt the innovation, the determination and the desire to want to explore and move. That might have been coupled to what a youth's natural desire was, but it certainly passed onto the old man and his new body. He wanted to travel and climb _mountains_ and seek out vast forests. He wanted the move away from stone buildings and mass crowds, if only for a little while. He didn't boast to being spoiled – he simply wanted the desire to move beyond the confines his family had placed on him. He was educated with an intelligence developed over decades of learning. So while the history lessons did, occasionally, catch his attention, his lack of interest in mathematics and subjects of government were justified because, frankly, he'd probably learned about the individual subjects prior.

This lack of attentiveness in matters of the school was often the reason behind his 'extension of services' to certain parties and individuals soon into his Kuoh Academy career. This was, in part, for the need to move beyond the small Japanese city and for the nostalgia that came with '_accepting assignments from individuals who would gladly pay you for services rendered_.' In other words, to accept 'missions' that had a completion chance based on Naruto's ever growing and returning skill set. The 'missions' were vast and wildly over-the-top tasks that pushed his abilities. It was the closest he felt to being an _actual_ ninja again.

His escapades weren't well advertised, for good reason. Dohnaseek knew of them because he was one of the few Angels he was amiable towards. Last thing he needed was the constant messaging – asking him to do the most minute tasks. He'd created a network of connections and ideas through the world, simply from extending an offer or hand to the right person at the right time (Jiraiya would have been proud). And his assignment-taking opportunities weren't limited to a race – he took projects from all manner of being. He met fascinating people while on the job; gods, monsters, legendary figures of mythologies and so on who held no shortage of work for him.

Beyond the excitement of danger and risk that came from his work, Naruto quite enjoyed his time away on the curious jobs he was offered. It was something to connect himself back to his younger, more active life. He felt as spry as a child in the snow and as combat ready as he felt in his _prime._

But there was another, perhaps more psychological reasoning behind his work.

Simply put, Naruto Uzumaki wasn't sure what he was doing.

Why had he returned from death? Why was he taken in by the Devils? Why did he find himself in such a bizarre set of worlds that was similar and heavily contrasting to his home? There had to be a purpose – some clue. No one just brings someone back to life without some idea as to the reasoning. In fact, he'd fought people who'd been _brought back from the dead_, before. They held a single purpose to fight and die for a cause (often one they did not desire to fight for). But Naruto felt no such pull. No strings or attachments or meddling with his head that suggested he should do something that wasn't what he would normally do. He certainly didn't _look_ dead; all skin and eye colorations were the same as he had before his passing.

So, beyond being an assist to his friends, engaging in a learning system he felt little interest in, and performing tasks mortal (and even immortal) men could not believe, what was he to do? What would spur someone (if it was, indeed, _someone_) to bring him back without provocation or purpose?

It was those questions that made sleeping difficult.

_Ring ring! Ring ring! Ring ring!_

But life went on, no different than usual.

Reaching into his pocket, Naruto flipped open the small device.

_**Place in the Sun**_

_**1903 Passenger Dr.**_

_**Stray Devil**_

_**Request: Capture/Elimination**_

_**Reward: 100,000**_

_**Accept/Reject**_

Naruto stared at the message. First: password accepted. Good. Second: location. It was close. A couple hour's walk, maybe. Nice large mansion, easy to find. Third: Stray Devil? That made him smile. They knew some of his favorite _game_. Fourth: Capture or eliminate? _New customer_, he guessed. Fifth: 円100,000? Someone was being cheap.

Still, no additional info or some sob story? He could work with that; might actually get paid for once.

Shrugging, Naruto clicked 'Accept' and kept walking.

* * *

_Outskirts of the City, 8:37 PM_

Stray Devils – Reincarnated Devils, Peerage members, who turned on their King and killed him or her. Without their masters to keep them in check, they posed a real threat, not only to the Underworld, but to all Factions and beings they come into contact with. It was a common occurrence for Strays to be wild and demented in thought, commonly attacking anything that moved, be they sentient or otherwise. Whether it was from power lust, mental instability or other negative reasoning's for attacking their masters, Strays never had a good reputation among anyone.

Devils were sent by the High Lords to deal with them. "Internal matters of state", as they were. No matter the country, the nearest Devil Peerage or hunter would be directed after the rogue so as to preserve the order of the human world and reputation of the Devil Peerage system. The reputation, being, 'you go astray, you die.' Perhaps not poetic, but it was persuasive. Less Strays were occurring then when the initial activation of the Peerage system began, though the possibility of occurrence wasn't completely eliminated. Fixing the Peerage system from its initial basis seemed to be helping.

Though, on occasion, the Stray Devil was illusive. Sometimes, a Stray knew how to stay out of a Devil authority's spotlight. And when that happened, it was bad news for whatever occupied area it decided to hold up at; usually creating rumors of a cave, forest or an old abandoned homestead that they decided to make their home out of. Either it was haunted, possessed or just plain _creepy_, the self-made rumors kept people away for the most part. Only the truly brave or stupid decided to go looking into the rumors themselves.

Often, they never found the Devil. Hiding was a full-life occupation now. Scaring a few humans, who were only looking to explore a deemed 'haunted' area, was hardly a risk worth taking, lest they be caught and dealt with harshly.

But, sometimes, the humans just wouldn't stay away.

Sometimes, a Devil got _hungry_…

And when Devils where incapable of finding their lost societal members, it was up to the _hunters_ to do their jobs. Hunters, as their name suggested, hunted the scum of the supernatural, mythological, fantastical and so on. They weren't an organized group; most preferring solitude or small groups as opposed to large working organizations. Freelance. They were the humans who still remembered the old times between humanity and Devilkind and realized the limitations of the human body.

They were few and far between and although Naruto wouldn't officially call himself a 'hunter' he did like the sound of going up against things that went 'bump in the night.'

This was one of his favorite gigs; going up against 'rogue Devils,' just like way back when.

Arriving at the large estate mansion, Naruto marveled at its bulk and size. The mansion was definitely well constructed – almost as large as the main building at Kuoh. Its construct was made with white walls, tinted windows and large front wooden doors. It appeared easy to move into, with a large amount of space inside. Naruto found it cozy. If he were a Stray looking for a place to 'accommodate,' he could have done worse.

Sadly, the mansion was also a very well-known location. Rumors of its haunting were widespread, starting up a couple months prior with the family of the estate moving out unexpectedly, but not taken for much else then school gossip.

Then people went missing.

If Naruto hadn't been occupied with Issei, he might have stoked the place out before today.

But now, he was getting paid to do something he would have eventually done on his own.

_Guess someone's looking out for 'THIS GUY!'_ Naruto thought pleasantly, as he made a quick leap over the gate to the mansion, casually landing before walking a brisk pace to the front door. _Don't see anyone on the outside. Figured as much._

The wooden doors were mahogany. Their designs were quite appreciative to the eye. Clearly, they were hand-crafted and had the time and passion of an artist's touch put into them. Smooth to the touch, appreciatively waxed and delicately polished by former house caretakers of the former owners.

**BANG!**

Naruto ripped them off their hinges with a well-placed kick. He never lost his smile.

Walking in casually, Naruto marveled at the design of the mansion. Roomy, piano in the corner, fine white designed space, windows that looked out over a large patio and that _view_–_hot damn!_ If that Stray wasn't going to use the place after Naruto was finished with him, he might just take the place himself!

Naruto's footsteps made audible echoes in the homestead; making his presence known. Walking towards the center of the floor, he waited as he tried to make out any obstruction in the silence around him.

It didn't take long.

"_**I SMELL SOMETHING…**_**"**

A raspy, feminine voice whispered around Naruto, as the room's only source of light – the _moon_ – went casually behind a set of clouds. An echo of hard footsteps could be heard from up the marble staircase, growing louder with each step.

"_**I SMELL SOMETHING GOOD…"**_

Naruto glanced towards the top of the staircase; making out a looming form, even in the dimmed moonlight.

"_**I WONDER IF IT'S CRUNCHY. I WONDER IF IT'S SWEET! BITTER, PERHAPS?"**_

The face of a beautiful women loomed out of the shadow, smiling and peering down to the intruder in her abode. Her skin was pale; dark hair ran down her back; eyes a bright yellowish _green_ and her torso – naked. She wore no shirt nor apparently any other mesh of clothing. She was full fronting the blond without care to the situation.

Naruto, had he been a male of lust or perversion, might have appreciated the view. As it stood, he knew what was happening, and didn't allow himself to turn away embarrassed. Even in confidence, the situation could change to _deadly_ in a moment.

So, instead, keeping his eyes on her, he smiled. "Am I interrupting you?" He gestured to her dress – or lack of it.

The woman chuckled.

"_**SWEET, YESSSS, CERTAINLY! HUNGRY NOW! YOU'RE AN APPATIZER!"**_

Before Naruto could make a quip about how, certainly, he was 'main course' worthy, the rest of the woman's body stepped out from the staircase.

Naruto, despite himself, felt a little bit of himself throw up in his mouth. Though it is said 'beauty is to the beholder,' Naruto had to wonder who saw _this_ as beautiful.

The Stray's entire lower body was that of a brown-haired _beast_ of some sort; her legs were arms and hands finished sharp claws and painted a strange pink. Her _tail_ shook with anticipation – a short thing with a ball of hair at the end. To Naruto, this was bizarre because he never saw Devil's like _this_ before. A weird combination of parts from different species. But that wasn't the worst part. From her crotch to the valley between her breasts, the Stray had a line down the middle, which opened and closed like it was _chewing_ something crunchy from within. Long, grey teeth were easily made out from within, as they gargled on something tastily.

The Stray smiled menacingly; her teeth seemed to sharpen disgustingly as she looked over the blond with delight.

Naruto stared at her. "Wow. Okay, I have seen some _fugly_ things in my life, but you?" He looked her over again. "You are _definitely_ in my top ten 'Freaky Things' list." And this counted for both lives.

The Stray just smiled, unperturbed as she decided to play with her breasts, excited.

_Oh great, an exhibitionist. Wonderful._

"_**SILLY CHILD. WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW OF TRUE BEAUTY? YOU ARE BUT AN ARROGANT, SHORT-LIVED, PRIMITIVELY NAÏVE HUMAN!"**_

"Oh, you sweet talker, you!"

"_**UNLIKE YOUR RACE, THIS PERFECT BODY AND FORM WILL STAY WITH ME FOREVER -"**_

"Ouch. Sorry to hear that."

"_**\- WHILE YOURS WITHERS AND DECAYS! TO ONE SUCH AS I, YOU ARE MAGGOT FOOD AT ITS FINEST!"**_

"Wait, did you just call yourself a maggot?"

"_**NOW, GAZE UPON THE MAJESTY THAT IS I, THE WONDEROUS VISER, LADY OF HELL, AS SHE MAKES YOU A PART OF HER!"**_

"Uh, wait, hell? You mean the Underworld, right? I know those two are a common misconception, but I've actually been to-_OH CRAP!"_ Naruto leapt to the side, avoiding a spray of pale liquid that shot towards him, hitting the ground where he stood and evaporating it quickly.

Naruto glanced to the spot then back to where the liquid shot from. "You have _breast acid?! __**Seriously**__?!_ Screw making the top ten! You just made the whole Freaky List, top to bottom!" He dodged again, avoiding more acid as the Stray seemed to be enjoying herself.

"_**AHAHAHAHA! STAY STILL, YOU LITTLE CRETIN, SO I MAY FINISH YOU OFF QUICKLY!"**_

"Careful, you keep talking like that," dodge, "and people are gonna talk," dodge, "and I'm not saying you aren't the world's biggest eyesore, but," dodge, dodge, dodge…dodge, "you're the world's biggest eyesore."

Naruto leapt behind the piano, watching as the breast acid attack finally ended. Whether she was out or finally got her high off the exhibitionist work was anyone's guess.

Looking over the piano, Naruto ran his fingers over the framework. "Sorry, Beethoven."

**TOSS!**

"_**AHAHA-DAAHHH!"**_

Direct hit. The piano smashed into several pieces at the impact of the Stray's enhanced endurance, as the once cackling monster fell to the ground, obviously damaged.

"You know, this would probably be where I choose a joke around a piano and an ugly woman," Naruto's voice yelled around the center room, his presence unseen as the Stray stood once more, attempting to gain composure, despite the injury, "but for the love of me, I just can't figure out which one to choose from."

The Devil, now snarling, was getting serious.

"_**WHERE ARE YOU?! COME OUT! COME OUT, YOU WORM!"**_

"Worm? I thought I was a cretin? Or maggot food? Do you have a thing for bugs? Cause I knew this one guy who had a thing for bugs and he-"

"_**SILENCE!"**_ The Stray shouted, turning and glancing in all directions of the room. _**"WHERE ARE YOU?! DO YOU THINK THIS IS SOME KIND OF GAME?!"**_

"_YAHTZEE!_"

"_**BE SILENT! BE SILENT, NOW! OR I WILL PULL YOUR HEAD OFF AND FEED IT TO MY STOMACH!"**_

"…_Aaaaaand_ you made it awkward."

"_**BAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!"**_

Naruto looked down from his position on the ceiling of the room, his feet holding himself in air as if stuck to the room's top. All the while, he was smiling as the Stray attempted to find his missing person. In most situations, he would have taken this seriously. Heck, he would have had a nice conversation and everything. But, the week till now had been tense, boring and lacking in any decent workout. So this job was the perfect relaxant!

Plus, this Stray didn't seem like a few of the others he'd met; ones abused or used by their masters in twisted schemes for power or pleasure. This Stray – Viser – got off on what she was doing.

So, it was time to end it. _Now_.

Letting the energy holding his feet to the ceiling release him, Naruto brought his fist back as he dropped to the Stray Devil, only revealing his presence at the last possible moment so that the Stray turned her head to look up to her incoming attacker.

The Stray's eyes widened as she barely made out the boy before he finished her for the evening. But one thing did strike her (besides the blow to the face) that left her questioning if she imagined what she saw before the embrace of forced unconsciousness took her.

_Red?_

* * *

_Outskirts of the City, 9:02 PM_

Rias Gremory assembled her Peerage outside of the abandoned mansion. Her Servants each had their personal weapons and effects ready for the assault. She was mentally readying herself, as well. Even weak Strays could prove bothersome; they did kill their High-Class masters, after all.

An hour before, Akeno received a message from the Underworld, requesting she and her Peerage deal with recent reports on a Stray in the local area. This was fine to her; this wasn't the first Stray she and her Peerage had dealt with, though she wished Kiba had managed to get Naruto on the line to join them. He enjoyed the hunt.

But, perhaps his absence was for the best. When Naruto was involved, he rarely held back and allowed her fellow members to pursue their target. Instead, he preferred singling the Stray out and taking him or her on alone; often with clever quips to the bemusement of Kiba and Akeno.

Today, though, was different. Now, at least, she could say she tried to get the blond's notice before the attempt, while at the same time giving her Peerage the chance to experience a Stray on their own, without the rather combat-savvy and enjoying Naruto. Admittedly, that _may_ have been a little exciting. Proving herself, without the blond's talent or assistance. It felt good.

Smiling to herself, Rias waved her hands to the mansion's gates, opening them slowly.

Kiba, her Knight, and Koneko, her Rook, took point as she and Akeno walked behind, looking over the estate curiously. Looking at the knocked down front doors, Rias wondered if the Stray was _asking_ to be caught. That was a little _too_ eye catching to be ignored.

The four of them walked in, confident in their abilities. A Knight, a Rook, a Queen and a _Gremory_ would be more than enough for one Stray.

At least, that was the idea.

Then they came to the post combat _mess_ left by the Devil.

On the ground, unconscious and groaning in its sleep, was the Stray. Naked from the top up, the only way the Peerage was even sure it was alive was by its slow breathing, followed by its moans. Its face was beaten and was bleeding out of its nose and mouth, though not to a level of worry for even a Stray Devil. It was, simply, sleeping off the pain.

And on top of its form, sitting cross-legged over his conquered foe was Naruto, writing something on a small piece of paper with a fixed focus.

Rias and her peerage stared at him.

"Let's see…seven meters tall…quadrupedal form…full nude…" Naruto scratched his head with the pen in his hand, looking confused before glancing up to the company. "Hey, Koneko! What do you think she is? One ton? Two tons?"

"One-and-a-half." Koneko answered, still looking onto the weird occurrence.

"Thanks!" Naruto said brightly, scribbling again as he made his little symbols and markings on the small parchment of paper no larger than his hand before hopping off the slumbering Stray, moving towards its head, and placing the slip of paper to its forehead.

Focusing, Naruto felt the familiar pull of internal energy in him, as the paper's runic seals glowed red with power. The room was lit with it, as the head from the Stray slowly edged into the paper, seeming to twist and shrink as if it were sucked in. The head was followed by the torso; then the lower body; then the claws; before finally the small furball of the tail sank into the small piece of paper with an audible '_pop!'_

Naruto, smiling, waved the paper in the air, letting the ink dry out, before turning to Rias's Peerage. They were still staring. "Yo!"

Koneko lifted her hand in a wave. "Yo."

"_Naruto!_" Rias yelled in the partially destroyed mansion, walking over to stare intensely at the now surprised looking blond. "_What _do you think you're _doing here?!_"

Naruto stared back, confused and a bit worried at her sudden fury. "Uh…nothing?"

This wasn't the right answer to give. "Nothing?!"

He pursed his lips. "I went for a walk."

Rias stared at him. "You went for a _walk_?" He nodded. "_Another one?_" He nodded. "This far from your apartment?" He nodded. "Into, what just so happened to be, a _Stray Devil's territory?_"

"_I know_, right? How lucky am I?"

Oh, she was gonna blow. He could see the outline of a red aura startling to encircle her form. He lifted up the sealed paper protectively. "But I got you a present! See!" He was smiling, slightly in panic to the furious woman. Vaguely, with Rias's hair starting to swirl and twist as her power caused the wind around them to brush her hair wildly around, Naruto wondered if his (original) mother, who had similar colored hair and a temper to match, was like this when she was upset with his (original) father.

Rias's glare was rarely used and even rarer to see her without some form of her demonic power seeping out with her loss of emotions. She was known as the 'Crimson-Haired Ruin Princess' for a reason. Her power was not to be trifled or tested with.

Angry though she was, the way Naruto offered her his 'win' placated her somewhat. Maybe it was just the look of panic from the blond that made her want to laugh and hug him at the same time. He was just so jovial it was cute. He beat a Stray, single-handedly, and was whimpering to her like he'd done something wrong. It was hard to stay angry towards.

In the end, grumbling, she wrenched the paper from his hand and turned back to her Peerage, walking towards the door. Kiba was grinning sheepishly at the situation; Koneko was monotonous; and Akeno was hiding a giggle and smile behind her hand.

Rias told herself she would get answers from Naruto, _later. _To save face.

"We're leaving. _Now_," Rias ordered, not turning back at the image of Naruto, wiping his brow in relief at not being made to feel the 'Princess of Destruction's,' as she was also known as, fury. Instead, she shouted back, with perhaps a small bit of enjoyment, "And I'm telling mother about this!"

Kiba followed his King, silently laughing as the sword he kept to his side vanished into particles of energy. Koneko followed, looking annoyed at not getting the chance to punch anything, while Akeno giggled more as she looked back to Naruto's expression.

_Lady Venelana._

"_Please_…_no_…_I was walking_…"

* * *

Atop the mansion, a female, winged-figure watched closely as the Gremory King and her Peerage left, followed shortly by the blond boy, who seemed to lack the kick-in-his-step that he came into the mansion with earlier.

Raynare stared at him hard. _Naruto,_ she thought, mulling the name over silently.

She'd been staking the mansion for some time. After her humiliation days prior, she'd figured she needed an outlet for her pent-up frustration. A good fight, in her mind, would do her some good. And as it so happened, rumors during her time as a student at Kuoh caught her attention. She hadn't meddled into them - her task had been the _pervert_ \- but now that she was free for a while...

Then the blond showed up.

Funny as situations went, running into the 'hero' turned out better then she hoped. It was quite the show; the human boy _thrashing_ the delusional Stray Devil with ease. If she hadn't known who the boy was prior to her arrival, she might have even congratulated him on a job well done. But then, instead of finishing the beast off, the blond seemed to want to do nothing more then lay on top of his win, scribbling with a light pen onto a piece of parchment without care.

This infuriated her, at first. To see he couldn't even finish the job was _unbelievably droll. _She planned to make herself known, then, just to rant and yell at his mercy, but then his 'cavalry' arrived.

It was intriguing what she heard. Watching the Devil disappear; watching the blond cower from the red-headed Devil woman; discovering the boy's name amidst the commotion. It was delightful pieces of information and ability she was content with simply viewing from a distance. Partially, she hazarded the thought of surprise attacking them all; she wasn't discovered and her spears could still deal considerable damage, especially to the red-Devil and her Peerage.

But the friendly attitude between the human and the Devils gave her pause. She was outnumbered and - dare she admit - _outmatched_. It was too much of a risk.

So, she watched them as they left, keeping an eye on them all as they disappeared in a flash of red from a teleport circle.

When they were gone, and she was sure her presence hadn't been discovered, she took to the cool skies above. She had much to think about.

Above all, after the display of the blond's humiliating and quick victory over the Stray, Raynare realized she would need more power to see her goals met and the blond - _Naruto_ \- quivering at her _feet_.

The thought made her smile.

* * *

**Alright, over 14000 words! My longest chapter yet! Kind of a make up for last week's, because I see people weren't fully enjoying the smaller then 8000 word chapter I made. Which is fine. Gave myself more time to work on this one, then! Though, I am a tad nervous I might have pushed my luck. I gave a lot of info. Don't know how people react to that.**

**In addition, I hope I didn't add too many humorous parts! This is a humor fic - I just wanted the funny within the seriousness! DON'T HATE ME FOR IT!**

**Also, I have a poll on my homepage (which I really need to put some stuff into) where I am trying to figure out when would be the best day to post my works on. You don't need to answer it if you don't want to, but it would help me figure out my update schedule, cause right now? I'm just updating whenever.**

**So, any poll help that can be given would be largely appreciated.**

**And there's warm air outside! I can live with that! Enjoy your week!**


	5. Rising Tensions, Part 1

CHAPTER FOUR: RISING TENSIONS, PART 1

_Lucifer Mansion, The Underworld, Eleven Years Ago_

As Naruto's body developed into that of a small child's, the former Hokage started to fully recognize just how limiting his small stature was.

In his teenage or even elderly years before his 'death,' Naruto was still seen as a being of peak human condition and capability. Suddenly finding it difficult to perform even the easiest of his skills was demoralizing, at first. The less than adequate body's abilities made the former ninja come to the conclusion that, at the young age of six, he would begin returning to his regular training.

The age wasn't randomly chosen, by any means. When he was young, most youths began training in some form or another in early life to be successful members of the village military. It was accepted as proper and prepared them for the harsh realities of the outside world. So, at what he and his 'parents' assumed was his sixth year of age, Naruto resumed his previous life's training routine.

This was not without its challenges. Being quite small in stature, weak in muscle and generally inflexible, the copious amounts of work and physical exercises Naruto had hoped to attempt in were severely limited. His body just couldn't handle the initial strain of unused muscles to do quick movements or tasks no normal child should have been capable of. Even with his discovered thriving Chakra, the energy source that powered his immense abilities in his previous life, Naruto often found himself out of breath and collapsing from overwork (which, admittedly, after being 'caged' in his crib and under the watch of a caretaker for so long, finding himself out of breath from a workout felt good).

But there was something else to be concerned for, aside from bodily limitations; the fear of being caught while practicing his former skills. Of course, being caught throwing punches in practice or trying to throw a proper kick were not crimes to be criticized upon, even by his 'mother' who took some levels of extremity to insure her 'son's' safety. Physical training, from what he assumed, was acceptable. He understood quickly that this new world's beings – these _Devils – _were individuals who enjoyed their bouts of combat. Naruto relaxed in the regard of his punching and kicking practices, even with the idea of being caught in the act. In fact, when caught, he was usually encouraged to continue with cheers and enthusiasm.

This made him laugh, a bit. When he was a kid in his life prior, people put him down quite often. Now, he was being praised for his determination and for being 'just like his father.'

_Life's full of surprises._

Anyway, aside from those small exercises, the few times Naruto tried to practice his 'other skill sets,' like walking a vertical slope or balancing a stack of books while remaining perfectly-still, he worked with care not to be discovered by _anyone_.

After all, how would he explain that? Walking up walls? The casual body flipping in the air? The meditating? Devils could fly, teleport and puncture stone with fist or _magic_ (at the time, he considered this to just be some form of otherworldly Jutsu (he wasn't a hundred percent wrong)). But he wasn't a Devil. He was human. A child, at that. Even Devil children he became aware of during his small time in the Lucifer Mansion were not as enthralled towards training as he was. Their attitudes were like humans: playful and carefree.

Naruto, despite his best attempts, could not always replicate the relaxed nature of child in the new world. He was an elderly man. He'd seen wars and lost friends and loved ones. He'd seen the world and lived with the mistakes he'd made. He'd grown wise and conversant with his responsibilities. True, his visage and attitude could jump into an unusual way towards carefree and naïve, at times. His past family helped keep him the Naruto they knew and loved, and his 'new father' had a way of making him smile and enjoy the feeling of new-youth.

But needless to say, Naruto wasn't like other children. He couldn't be and that's what made him nervous about the truth of his unique situation. From the time he was found, Naruto kept a closely held secret over his awareness to the world around him. Having a child with the mind and skill of a man well past a century in age would not be looked upon easily.

Even Grayfia – his _mother_ – still held the curious eye on him, from time to time.

So, early into his new body's training, Naruto decided that, at least for a time, he would keep what little training he found time to do a secret from his parents. He'd figured out how to explain anything that could be explained once he had a better idea of just how the world worked around unique (awesome) individuals such as himself.

Ironically, when the idea of 'brilliantly-deceiving-the-authority-figures-of-the-mansion' came to him, not a few seconds later, the lord and lady of the mansion came in to check on their baby boy.

Now, this might have not come off as peculiar had their 'son' not been holding himself upside down…from the ceiling…using only his _toes_…_thirty feet_ off the floor…

He remembered the staring between them quite vividly.

"…Ta-dah?"

* * *

Surtr Second – the _Ultimate Rook_ of the Underworld.

Created by Norse Gods two-three millennia ago, Surtr Second was a clone of the original mythological fire giant, Surtr, whom was said to have set fire to a dozen worlds with his army of giants in the past. Though defeated and cast into a shadowy pit that not even his fiery light could overcome, the Norse Gods feared he would one day return. To counter this, from the torn flesh of the old giant, Odin – the lord of the Norse Gods, All Father, and God of Many Things – conjured the new Surtr into the world.

But the clone was not created to perfection. In the hopes of retaining the abilities of the old Surtr, the gods allowed him to retain the power that gave birth to his fire – the passion and feelings that made them burn hot. But this was a mistake. The cloned Surtr was given the feelings of the original Surtr, but not his memories or the reasoning behind why he felt what he did. The confusion and disorientation were too much for the newborn giant, and soon after creation, he was driven mad with doubt of his identity or purpose, lashing out at those around him.

So the gods, in a bout of pity, threw the new giant into an icy tomb before his power could rise to challenge them. And there he waited for centuries; pained without knowing the reason. He would have died a slow and painful death had the newly appointed Great Satan Lord not come across the poor abomination.

Surtr was powerful but his mind and long duration of constant pain made him tired and weak. Sirzechs, seizing the opportunity, manipulated what feelings he could, twisting and breaking the mind of the new Surtr – an act of mercy to the pained and desperate creature. Broken, Sirzechs offered him one of his prized Evil Pieces – the Rook – for the sake of his salvation. Surtr, reborn with his mind undamaged and free of the torment that befell him, swore loyalty to the Devil Lord for 'stopping the fire.'

And thus, Surtr Second, as was his new name given to him by his master and friend, became a part of Lucifer's Peerage.

And now, as of Sirzechs's request, he was Naruto's new 'sensei.'

"You listen here, little-blond _runt boy!_ Incredible Lord Sirzechs has placed _you_ in _my_ charge! To study in the ways of controlling your powers and being a complete _badass_ in and out of combat! If you place your faith in me, _**Surtr Second!**_ Then I _guarantee!_ With a hundred-percent _certainty!_ That I WILL! NOT! FAIL! YOU!"

If Naruto could compare the man adequately, just from the attitude he gave off, he would say Surtr was Guy-sensei's angrier brother.

Surtr Second held the appearance of a man in his early to mid-thirties, with long, spiky orange hair, huge hands that looked like they could crush Naruto's skull with the tiniest grip, and a build that brimmed with hidden power - like fire ready for some oil to be poured onto it.

The circumstances around this little turn of events were actually quite simple. After being scolded and praised from individual parents (take a guess which from which), Sirzechs brought Naruto before the only one he felt confident enough to set him upon for 'training.' In the Great Satan's mindset, Surtr was one of the kindest, most trustworthy Devils he knew. In addition to possessing as much power as his original genetic self, he was loyal beyond all reason and never failed to put his absolute best into anything he set his mind to.

By the Great Satan's assumption, Surtr would be apt in teaching his son.

"In my training, you will know what it means to respect authority! **MY AUTHORITY!** You will grovel on the _ground!_ You will train until you _bleed!_ You will cry for your **momma!** But by the end, you will be a _mean machine_ like me! Now, what say you, runt-boy?!" He pointed down to Naruto, who wasn't even half of the fire giant's height. "Do you want to be an all-around, _incredible_, _**unbelievable**_, BEASTLY FIGHTING **MACHINE?!**"

Naruto, somewhat taken aback, nodded.

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU?!"

"Yes, Surtr-san!"

"THAT IS SURTR-_**SAMA**_ WHILE YOU ARE UNDER MY **BOOT!** NOW AGAIN! _DO YOU WANNA BE __**AWESOME?!**"_

"YES, SURTR-**SAMA!**"

"**OORAH!**"

* * *

_Church Facility, Present Day, 11:47 PM_

In the center of the Church that stood atop the hill – several miles from Kuoh Academy – a young maiden sat quietly as she held her eyes closed and her hands together in soft prayer.

She prayed to those she knew, those she didn't, and those she had not met yet. She prayed for good fortune to all and to have the blessing of God placed in all men, pure or not. The young nun had been continuously performing her rites for some time - several _hours_, in fact. She did not seem to grow tired nor bored as she performed her duties of the lord. She was devout, to be certain, and seemed to enjoy her silent work.

This particular young woman's name was Asia Argento. A quiet, but sweet girl, who listened and fulfilled the duties of a nun since she was a newborn left in the church's care. She was a short teen at the age fifteen, nearing sixteen, with long blond hair that reached down to her lower back, green eyes, soft toned skin and wore a standard dark teal nun's outfit. Dangling from her neck was a silver cross that completed her image of purity and serenity. Indeed, it was improbable to imagine how someone could mistake the girl for anything but a devout Christian who'd put her life into God's hands.

Asia was not originally a member of the Japanese church she now resided in. Originally, she was born and raised in Italy. However, circumstances arose in the most unfortunate of natures and she was cast out from the only home she knew.

But the ever positive nun was not to be let down by this situation. She found hope, soon after, in the hands of those who'd fallen from God's grace – the Fallen Angels.

Ironic, though it might have been, the dark-winged figures took her in. Cared for her, even. They brought her to Japan to continue the work she felt passionate for. And through their kindness, she found new purpose with purging the evils of the world, far from her original home.

Her 'gift,' which some called a curse, was now being nurtured into something _wondrous_ to the benefit of all.

And aside from that, even a cute boy she met found her burden to be…how did he put it…oh yes! Cool! It made the young woman's entire day to know someone thought she wasn't the _witch_ others claimed she was. He was kind and generous – and to a complete stranger! It made her so happy to have met him…

Silently gliding up the narrow way to where the nun laid silently in prayer, a short, bespectacled man of growing age wearing the outfit adorned from priesthood smiled down to his new ward. Eventually, she would be doing the work that was set out for her. The priest was happy. She was truly special! And with her, he had set the perfect partner to protect and guide her in her duties; a partner of _firmness_ and _passion_ in purging the wicked of evil sin and doing it with a gratuitous smile.

Oh yes! They would do well together, he was certain!

Not wanting to bother the young maiden, the elderly man crept to the side of the room, spying with his little eyes a pair of hidden figures. Knowing them personally, he decided to greet them politely.

"A most harmonious night to you, _Azazel-sama_," the priest said, bowing to his benefactor and heavy contributor, as Azazel nodded in response, refusing to look away from Asia's praying figure.

"How is she?"

"Quite well! Yes, quite well!" The priest answered, moving to stand aside so the pair of Fallen could gaze upon her. "She is taking to her new accommodations quite well."

"Good," Azazel nodded, "then she should perform her duties soon."

The priest nodded. "Yes, but of course! I have selected her partner already and he is _more_ than anxious to performing the lord's work."

Though keeping his features a mask of seriousness despite his desire to smirk knowingly, Azazel turned his attention to the priest. "Have you?"

"Oh yes! I assure you, he is a most clever boy! With a witty tongue and air to him, the two will be like peas in a pod before you know it."

"I shall take your word for it, then." Azazel replied before turning to his associate. "Raynare, will you be alright with your new station?"

The female Fallen Angel was, like her lord, a mask of detachment._ Guard duty. Again_. "I will accommodate myself to the new circumstances accordingly." The situation was preferable to the pervert, she would admit. She'd rather look after a devoted nun to the church and wisdom of God then some breast-eccentric _child_ anyway.

She could accept this more readily than before, begrudging though she was to admit.

Azazel nodded. She was the perfect little Fallen. "That settles it then. Father Galilei, you are dismissed."

The priest – Father Galilei – nodded with joy on his features. "As you command, Azazel-sama." And with that, he left the two Fallen be. He had other matters to attend to, like getting his prized pupil ready for the big night ahead of them!

The two Fallen watched the nun quietly for a time, mulling over the girl as she was bathed in moonlight from one of the colored windows above her. The light seemed to enhance the girl's developing beauty, with blonde hair glistening ever so slightly with the shifting light to her breathing.

Azazel could appreciate it. "Quite the beauty, isn't she?"

Raynare nodded. "There are worse, my lord."

Azazel chuckled quietly. "_Ouch_. That's harsh. I mean, look at her," he waved a hand in her direction, "the way the moonlight hits her _just_ _right_ could make even an Angel fall, I'm sure."

"It is as you say, my lord."

Azazel held back a bark of laughter, instead opting turning and placing a calming hand onto his ward. "Make me proud, Raynare. I expect excellence from you, you know that."

Raynare, ever the prideful Angel, smiled slightly at the praise. "Thank you, my lord."

He smiled before brushing past, leaving the Wrathful Fallen to her duties.

Raynare would stand in the shadows for several hours to come, keeping a level of professionalism as she kept her eye on the nun. To her, the girl might have had the potential to be a wonderful nun to the church. She certainly had the determination to please others with heavy prayer – the air of innocence and perfection. Her devotion and poise were aspiring.

The rest of her, however, was _lacking_.

This youthful nun – Asia – was little more than a passing fancy of her lord. Just a girl with a _Sacred Gear_.

Her lord Azazel had taken a recent interest in Sacred Gears. This girl's sudden fallacy and banishment from her home church was a stroke of fortune to him. To be certain, what lied within her was a powerful artifact of God with levels of impressive potential, but nothing much else. She had her name and the clothes to her back but nothing else really struck Raynare as 'special.' She didn't even seem particularly interested in expanding its capabilities beyond the mere minimum of its potential.

This thought irked her, slightly. Given potential from God himself and not even attempting to perfect its power to its full was almost _blasphemous._ Raynare's opinion of Sacred Gear users wasn't the most positive to be found, having been educated in poor cases of its uses in the past, but to see one up close and know the girl was too fearful to touch its limits was almost _frustrating_.

She held back her thoughts and feelings, however. Her duty was to protect the girl. The girl devoted to the church. She was under the Fallen Angel's protection so long as she performed her duties well.

Azazel-sama saw something in the girl. Perhaps she was just not to the level of her lord to see as much.

_Not yet_, at least.

But for now, the Fallen Angel stood, vigilant, for hours to come, watching her new protectorate, only glancing occasionally towards the subject of her lord's interest in the colored mirrors of the church.

She would admit, the moon _was_ a lovely shade that evening.

_Nearing full…_

* * *

_Near 1138 Detrital Way, 5.6 Miles Out From Kuoh Academy, Next Day, 10:07 PM_

Naruto casually walked down the residential street, hands in pockets and thoughts casually wandering to the reasoning behind being so far from his pleasantly comfortable apartment.

The reasoning behind his little stroll was with a desired intention. He was taking a request – free of charge, in fact, which was not a completely uncommon occurrence, considering the source.

Rias's Peerage was currently packed with help-requests for the night. Having been forced to forego on the previous night's work to assist with the Stray Devil elimination from high officials, Rias and her party were now busy making reparations to all disappointed customers.

Unfortunately, on that particular night, there happened to be an excess amount of requests that needed completing, it seemed.

The nature of a Devil's request was actually quite simple in description. A human (or, at least, most commonly a human) would make a call to a desired Devil's Peerage and request something of any sort of importance or desire to be completed by any member of the desired Peerage. No matter the request, so long as it was within the capabilities of the Devil in service, the Devil would ensure the success of the pact between the two parties. In return for the completed pact, the hired Devil would receive a small piece of energy from their host; something easily replenished by the human party but was something that would slowly increase a Devil's own power over a period of time.

But, for those who desired a deeper, more spiritual manner of speaking to the formerly mentioned request: a host would lose a small, replenish-able piece of their soul that would be internally recovered within themselves over the span of hours to weeks after the hired-Devil completed their desired task. This 'soul-fuel' would then be consumed by the Demonic energy thriving within the Underworld civilian's person, which, by the unique physiology of the Devil, would then increase their power by the amount consumed. With both work and payment finished, both parties would separate from one another with relative peace and fulfillment.

...Or, for the sake of utter simplicity:

A Devil's request was for Devils to help people do stuff.

They were then paid with a power-boost for what they do.

They would leave when both peoples were happy.

Everyone would win.

The end.

Requests ranged from any assortment of work that could be imagined to be given by a human to a being of heightened ability. Because of the open and rather easygoing nature Devils usually held themselves in, even the most embarrassing or ridiculous of demands were held with little to no actual discomfiture. Further, with the regulation that completely draining the soul of a human was now a crime amongst Devilkind, more requests were now being made without fear of 'damnation.'

Due to the often ease of these partitioned requests, Naruto once openly volunteered to assist Rias in her efforts to appease a particularly busy night the previous year. Rias was booked with work, even requiring her hand for some of the smaller potential requester, and Naruto, being the helpful individual he was, asked if he could assist in anyway he could.

Naturally, Rias accepted, and never forgot just how 'supportive' Naruto had been.

Now roughly every couple of months, usually against his will, Naruto would spend a night or two as a 'Substitute Devil' in assistance to Rias's Peerage.

_It's D-rank missions all over again..._

Coming up to the house of request - a dark, single-floor house of no real notoriety - Naruto stopped at the front door and knocked carefully with the back of his knuckles.

"Hello! Requested Devil! Here for your needs!"

_Knock-knock-squeeeeeak…_

That slight knock pushed the door open with a loud, audible, _ominous_ sound. Naruto, with hand still up from where he'd knocked, glanced into the softly lit home. The only light to be seen was the low glow from a room in the far corner of the hallway.

Naruto stared at it. "Trap?" He wondered aloud, as he moved into the hallway and down towards the light.

The lit room was mostly unremarkable – dimmed lamplight behind a cover, couch to the side, a small liquor cabinet at the corner near the window – not much to mention about the standard living room. The only thing eye catching was the corpse lying next to the window; pieces of body flung around in messy heaps with the blood still pouring from the severed remains of whoever previously lived here. This wasn't the first corpse he'd seen, and certainly not the worst of shape. But in such a modern and well-controlled society as Japan, it wasn't exactly a common occurrence.

"'_Punish the wicked'…_Words to live by…_"_

A voice sounded to Naruto's side, as he twisted his head over to see a figure sitting casually at a dining room table. The figure – male by his voice – was silver haired in a long dark cloak.

"Wise advice to heed from a _holy man_…_hehehe…_"

The man turned his head, gazing up towards the blond's tense features, as he opened his mouth to smile quite unsteadily. His eyes were wide and intense as his tongue, longue and pink, slid out to complete the visage of true _madness_ the man now exerted.

Naruto didn't know what to make of this new figure. He had an…uneasy look about him. His But despite his appearance of questionable sanity, there was one thing that caught Naruto's eye; _a cross,_ silver and polished, hung around his neck.

_An Exorcist._

"Teeheeheehee! I'm afraid you just happened to walk into the wrong house, my friend!" The silver-haired man shouted, his grin spreading wide across his face as he stood to meet the new addition to the household. He gave the blond a curt bow. "_Freed Sellzen_ here! At your service!" The man – Freed – introduced himself, before grinning brightly and doing some sort of makeshift dance to Naruto's growing agitation. "And _you_ must be the scared little _pussy_ whose Devil _ass_ this holy priest is going to exorcise!"

Naruto blinked uncertainly at this random 'priest'; looking over the disturbed and bloody area around him.

_Great. Another psycho who kills for his god and enjoys it immensely._ Naruto recalled someone remarkably like this in his life prior – even with the silver hair and the foul word choice. This brought a disturbed though to mind.

_Oh shit did that guy reincarnate too?!_ He certainly hoped not.

"A 'priest,' huh?" Naruto started, crossing his arms as his features hardened before the cackling man. "Seems a bit odd for the church to send someone after some servicing Devils. What's the cause here?" It was usually the cases of murder or bloody conquest when the church decided to send in the big arms. They didn't send Exorcists to _cause_ bloody murders.

In response, Freed's grin just grew further. "Oh, you know – population control, purging the ticks of the world in hard to find places, that sort of thing. Maybe you're familiar with our work? Don't scared f&amp;#ks like _you_ look into the holy warriors like _me_?"

He was after Devils, it seemed. Didn't even realize when there wasn't one right in front of him.

"Then what's with killing this guy?" Naruto pointed a thumb to the corpse. "He wasn't a Devil."

"Summoning you proved he was done being human." Freed claimed quickly, shrugging. "_Human_ world, remember? Can't have corrupt souls just cozying around people like me, right?" He cocked his head to the side, laughing at the mutilated body. "It was the end of the line for you, _sinner!_" He giggled. "_Oh! _Those screams certainly put me at full mast! There's nothing like a good 'begging for mercy,' am I right?"

Naruto pursed his lips.

You could live for a hundred years and _still_ meet one-of-a-kind personalities.

"_Ahhh_, but anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself," Sellzen said, reaching into his long coat with long, pale fingers, "my job is to kill the fools of the world. My job is to kill pesky little wastes of semen who call themselves Devils and men for the sake of my lord. My job, quite frankly, is simple."

He pulled out two items with strange gold runes etched into them; one looked like a handle of something while the other was clearly some sort of sophisticated gun. The handle glowed white as a long, slim beam of energy slid from its shaft, glowing and hissing in the air.

Freed's cocky smile widened. "Wanna take a guess what it is?"

Naruto stared at the two tools in the Excorcist's hands. _A sword of light and a holy gun. Those are only for the __**best**__. Guess he isn't just some ragtag priest trying to make a name for himself._

"First, I'm gonna cut out your evil heart with my heavenly blade of God. Then, I'm gonna feed it to you. Then, when it's down your f&amp;$king throat, I want you tell give me great detail on what it tastes like! That is, right before I pull this here trigger and blow your brains out!" Freed leaned forward to the wide-eyed Naruto, guessing the blond's fear must have been prevalent then. "HOW DOES THAT SOUND YOU SHIT-FACED F&amp;$K-AAAAHHHHHH!"

**SLAM!**

The silver haired, howling priest was no longer standing before the blond haired youth, spouting his little perversions of the mouth. Where once Freed Sellzen had felt the touch of the earth under his boots, now he only felt a sense of weightless dropping, coupled with an immense, blunting pain in the side of his cheek. His screaming told him he was in pain, and the feeling of his upper back smashing unceremoniously into the back walls of what was quite the distance behind him only suggested more of that throbbing, undesired sensation would follow.

He felt blood in his mouth. His own.

He wanted to curse, profusely, but the pain in his jaw stalled him for a brief moment.

As for Naruto, his fist was extended outward to where the Exorcist once stood, trembling as he felt it smash into the priest's face, eyes wide. "I cannot tell you how _good_ that felt." He slowly smiled. "I mean, who wouldn't want to punch someone who just got their kicks off of some guy's _death_?" Rhetorical question. "I mean, don't get me wrong; I'm not like you. I don't get my kicks off of doing this often. But right now, I would like nothing more than to put you through _every single bit_ of the pain you made that guy feel." He started to walk to the prone Freed. "_Every. __**Single. **__Bit of it._"

Freed held his mouth as he felt the blood slide down his chin, falling onto his uniform.

He wasn't smiling anymore.

"I have to tell you, I have met some _freaks_ in my time. The whole tongue, crazy eye and psychotic rambling thing? It's been _done._ You're no different than them in a _lot_ of ways. But you know; you get off on this killing thing _way_ more than they ever did."

He stood over the Exorcist; bringing his hands together and squeezing them tightly to create audible cracks in the air. "Do you know what happened to them?" He asked with a tone that suggested he didn't need for the man to answer. "Or maybe I should just give you a demonstration?"

Freed growled angrily, raising his holy blade to the air before slashing down towards the blond. Naruto saw it coming easily and easily caught the man by his wrist before the sword could even come close to his skin. Freed raised his other hand, lifting the gun to point towards the blond's abdomen, only to be caught and gripped with a fierce tightness.

_Pop._

And like that, the wrist was broken, and the gun dropped from his hand with a sharp cry.

But Naruto wasn't finished.

Bringing his head back, the blond shot his forehead forward, smashing into the Exorcist's nose with a _crunch_. As Freed cried out, Naruto pulled his arm away from its grip on Freed's broken wrist and smashed it into his abdomen. Then to his ribs. Then to his cheek again. Then, reaching up to the priest's head and getting a firm grip, Naruto pulled back his arm before ramming it forward into the wall, Freed's head taking the impact with full force.

It was all very painful.

And then, just for good measure to make sure the crazed Exorcist didn't get any more ideas, Naruto forced a knee to his crotch.

Not his stomach, not to his sides – his _crotch_.

The scream that followed was as sounding:

"DAAAA-IIIIEEEEEHHHHH-AAAAAAAAWWWWWW!"

…_Eh, he had it coming._

"YOU WHORE-F#%KING, CHEAP-BITCH PIECE OF SHIT!"

…_Aaaand another one. Just for good measure._

* * *

Eventually, Freed's screams died out, his body falling to the ground to his sides as Naruto released his hold, letting him whimper as the foul-mouthed priest held protectively to 'himself.' The blond reached for the two weapons of the Exorcist that fell to the floor, holding them tightly before they were _crushed_ by his grip.

Naruto let the pieces fall next to Freed's downed form.

"Hate you…hate you…_soooo__** much**_…"

"Yeah, not overly fond of you, either," Naruto returned, kneeling down to the whimpering man, "but I need answers and I need them _now_. And for that, I'll have to hold back on breaking any more of your ribs. First question: who sent you_?_"

Freed wasn't so easy to answering questions, however. "_Ahhh…_did my holy speech not give you a _hint_, you petulant piece of sh_-AHHHH!"_

Naruto pulled a particularly sharp piece of the shattered holy weapons and drove it into Freed's arm. "Answer me. You don't want to know where I'll put this _next_."

Ninja training: harsh but effective.

Torture wasn't particularly his forte or favorite past time, but Naruto was starting to realize this entire week was dedicated to putting him in bad positions and a bad mood.

Angels attempting seemingly random murder; Stray Devils eating humans as snacks; and now a priest getting his _sexual high_ off of innocent deaths – _seriously_, if this arc of craziness went on for a _month,_ he was moving back with his parents!

Freed grunted as Naruto pressed the sharp edge of his former holy weapon further into his shoulder; wiggling it around to the sound of Freed's pained shouts and gasps for breath. "You're not making this easier. Tell me _now_ or I'll push this so far into your-"

"PRIEST GIRL! GET IN HERE! **NOW**!"

Freed's sudden scream stopped Naruto's pressing down further for a moment. "…Priest girl?"

"_AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_"

Naruto turned his head suddenly, noticing the newest addition to the blood soaked room. A young woman stood at the doorway, mouth agape as she stared at the chopped body of the former attendant.

Naruto studied her. Long blond hair, innocent green eyes and a nun's outfit – definitely a woman of the church.

Naruto moved away from Freed and got ready for any kind of attack. She might have looked innocent but that meant squat when half your generation of friends could kill someone as easily as buy groceries.

Freed, grunting, managed to move himself from his pained, crotch-holding position on the ground to glare at the nun. "Stop the screaming and help me out here!"

But the nun was stunned. She couldn't move her eyes from the body (or what remained of it).

Naruto, slowly and carefully, moved in front of the torn-to-shreds person, averting the young woman's view. "Who are you?" He asked, getting a better look of her. She didn't have the air of insanity or being an Exorcist to her. She was an enigma to the rest of the room's chaos and damage; a brightness to the otherwise unsettling atmosphere.

At the moment, she seemed to have her mind knocked out of its stump from Naruto's obstruction of her view of the body. "W-what happened here?" She asked, her voice and body trembling as she tried to make sense of the scene before her. Either she was a great actor or actually shocked by what was going on. And Naruto, though born in a world of ninja, was starting to suspect the latter. "W-who did this?"

"Shut up with the whining!" Freed yelled. "Get over here and heal me before Freed-junior is out of the question!" The nun didn't move. Naruto wouldn't have let her, anyway. It was a matter of practicality: if she was a healer, letting her help a man like Freed right now wouldn't help anyone.

"Who are you?" Naruto repeated; his voice rising in tone as he got the nun's attention firmly on him. Looking away from all the blood and loose skin seemed to help a little.

The blond haired girl regarded him. "A-A-Asia. Asia Argento." She – Asia – managed to stutter out, swallowing hard. "I-I'm a new nun in service to the c-church of this town." She closed her eyes to avoid the blood at her feet as she bowed to the boy in front of her. "I-I am pleased to meet your acquaintance!"

Naruto stared at her. "Naruto Uzumaki," he carefully introduced himself, "and likewise."

"Hey! Bitch! Hurry up and heal me!"

Asia didn't seem to hear him. "U-Uzumaki-san. Who did…?"

Naruto risked a glance back to the body he was helping to avert from the girl's view. "Take a guess," he pointed his thumb over to the downed Exorcist in the corner, still holding his 'precious.'

Asia's eyes widened at the implication of what he was suggesting. "N-no! Sellzen-san is a man of the church! He wouldn't-_couldn't_ do this!" Her devotion to the belief a man under God could do no wrong was almost touching.

Then Freed ruined it.

"Hey! That was _my_ kill! I put great effort into memorizing his screams for later use! I will not allow some pansy to take that away from me!"

No one wanted to assume what he meant by 'later use.'

Least of all Asia. "W-what?"

In the last several hours, she'd been paired with Freed to begin purging the city of evil. Freed had come off as a dedicated, if a bit excited, member of the church. His belief and sense of right was astounding. The several houses Freed 'sensed the summoning chant of evil' from and took action against during the earlier hours of the day had made him come out happy and cheerful, ready to move onto the next one soon after. The reason she came into the current house the three of them were in now was because Freed had taken quite a lengthy bit of time to vacate, unlike before.

But now, Asia almost doubted her own ears, as the silver-haired priest claimed, quite profusely, to have killed the owner of the house. Before he left Asia to set up a protective barrier to prevent Devil teleportation, he claimed to sense the evil energies of a Devil's evil work within and went to purify it – not mentioning what was intended for the human inside.

This thought brought a colder though to Asia's innocent mind.

Freed had previously said the same thing about a house they arrived too prior to the one they were currently in.

And, like before, he'd said a similar thing to the house before that, as well.

And, as she recalled, the one before that.

And the one before that.

And the one before _that_.

And the one before that…and the one before that…and the one before…

Asia's felt weak as her eyes widened; ready to vomit what little lunch she had left in her stomach.

Her hand went to her mouth, holding back a scream, as her eyes watered.

_All those houses…Those people…There were __**children**__…!_

Naruto, as he watched the nun's features, started to suspect this girl might have not been the accomplice he believed.

Freed, growling and scowling at the situation, managed to shakily make it to his feet. He turned a glare to the nun. "Oh, _screw you!_ Just standing there, crying like a little _witch!_ Dagh! Who's leg do I gotta hump to get good help these days?!" Freed made to approach his assistant. Even without his weapons, he was still physically stronger than her. And hey, what a girl didn't know, a few bruises could fix–!

But before Freed could even move to intercept his partner, the situation took a turn for a worse (for the priest, at least) when a red, circular glyph appeared in thin air, shining the room in crimson as familiar energy crackled around it.

Freed dared a glance, grunting in pain with every move. "Oooooh_ shit_."

Asia looked perplexed at seeing such prominent energy in such a confined space. The amount of magic energy – it was _unreal!_

Naruto just stared and smiled.

Out from the fiery red glyph, Rias and her Peerage casually walked into the homestead, confident strides masking the determined appearance of each of them. Kiba had his sword at his side; Koneko checked her gloves to ensure their fitfulness; Akeno strode in with a smile, standing beside a fierce looking Rias. They all still wore their academy uniforms, though Kiba seemed to opt to remove his jacket and replace the missing clothing with a tight belt with a sheath at his side – looking ever the Knight beside his King.

Rias took in the situation carefully. The houses that called for fulfilled contracts between her Devil peerage had almost all been killed off by the time they arrived. Blood and death on _immense_ levels. Even the families that weren't involved had been _slaughtered_. Rias attempted to contact Naruto prior to his arrival to the household but, as usual, was unable to contact him (dead battery, go figure). She attempted to reach the house via portal but, until a minute ago, an incomplete barrier had prevented their arrival.

She feared the worse.

Now, seeing Naruto unharmed with the whimpering Exorcist scurrying away, she allowed a small amount of relief to wash over her. "Naruto, are you alright?" She had to ask, as Naruto glanced her way with a nod.

"I'm fine, Rias. Just taking care of this-"

"SHIT SHIT SHIT!" Freed yelled, scampering away from the Peerage to the far side of the room, watching where he went as he cursed his rotten luck.

_The girl was supposed to put up the barrier!_ Freed thought angrily. _She was supposed to prevent this f%$ktard of a situation from happening! Now look – we have ourselves a good old classy __**gang bang**__! And worst of all, I'm about to be rocked in the most __**unpleasant**__ way possible!_

His teeth were grit as he tried to assess the situation in one word. 'Shitty' came to mind.

_Backup! I need backup!_ "F%$king help! I need some help down here! Weren't you supposed to help protect the little priest bitch?! Get down here, NOW!"

Despite the wickedness of Freed, it seemed his cries for help were quickly answered. From above his head, a swirl of black and violet energy expanded, throwing an ominous tinge to the already disordered room's appearance. The air seemed to contort and shift in different direction, not unlike Rias and her Peerage's previous form of transportation.

Koneko stared at the portal, pointedly. She sniffed the air. "Fallen Angels. A lot of them." She said this quietly, though 'a lot' was sounding pretty accurate right then from what she could tell. "Time to leave. Now."

Rias glared at the cackling priest and the wave of energy. The situation was deteriorating fast. "Akeno, get ready to jump us out of here!"

"Yes, Buchou!" Akeno's hands began to spin in smooth but controlled movements, summoning the power within her as she made to move them back to the club room.

Rias turned to Naruto, whose eyes stared at the vortex. "Don't do it Naruto!"

Naruto glared at the energy above Freed, his mind going over what was happening. Exorcists killing people who were summoning Devils; church nuns being used for barrier maintenance; and now the Fallen Angels were supporting this?

_What the hell is going on here?!_

"_Naruto!"_

"_What?!_"

"Run! Now!"

Naruto blinked. _Right. Army of Fallen Angels, spears of light, pain all around…_

Naruto turned to Asia, who the entire time seemed horror struck at what was happening – what she had _helped to do_ – without moving from her kneeling, pained poise. Naruto moved a couple steps to her. "Asia! Are you gonna be alright?" He was tempted to take her then. But the question was 'what then?' He didn't know what this girl was to the Fallen – prisoner, assistant, what? From what he guessed, she was the unaware helper to a mad priest who got his kicks off the death of others. He was hesitant to leave her with such a man, though.

Asia seemed to register the situation, as she moved her tear-filled eyes up to the blond. "G-go!" She yelled. "Get away from here! Hurry!" She couldn't possibly have understood just how severe the situation was, but understood the tension between the Devils, Naruto, and the portal for the incoming Fallen.

Being a pure woman, Asia wouldn't stand to let people be hurt, no matter the reason.

So she told them to _run_.

Naruto's features hardened, nodding and gesturing to Rias with a quick, "run!" before jumping out the nearest window onto the outside world and away from the coming Angels. Akeno finished her incantation as the new glyph of red energy engulfed Rias and her little club in bright crimson, seeming to evaporate them into thin air.

Then the Fallen descended.

* * *

_The City, Rooftops, a few moments later_

Naruto leapt over the buildings around him, touching down for the briefest of moments before leaping onto another.

He was sprinting towards Kuoh Academy; keeping to the shadiest and darkest parts of the city in the hopes of not being caught by either the people below or the potential pursuers. Figuring the priest, he might have pointed the direction Naruto decided to move in as a means of payback for the potential loss of his future psychopaths. And while Naruto couldn't sense ill intent creeping behind him, until he reached Kuoh, he wouldn't be stopping for a _second_.

Naruto's mind was fixated on this weird movement by the Fallen Angels. Supporting crazed Exorcists? Not their usual game. So unless they were outsourcing to alternate sources of stupid, the only conclusion was that this couldn't have been a sanctioned move by the Fallen Angel government. It was too rash – too _blunt_ – to have been. He knew the Fallen Angel government. He'd dealt with their government. The Fallen Angels desired _peace_; quite heavily, in fact. They wouldn't have made such a rash move without provocation and especially not against a Peerage with as close ties to Lucifer or Naruto for that matter.

Outside interference? Probably. War? Might have been the desired end result. While attacking some less renowned High Class Devil's Peerage contract holders might have been a daring move, it would probably not be enough to incite war chants among the Devil clans. Attacking the _heir_ of the Gremory House, however, would have similar reparations to attacking the 72 Pillars, themselves.

In other words, if this information were leaked that the Gremory House's Devil-contracted humans were being targeted by Exorcists, there would be retribution.

And with that thought, Naruto reached for the phone in his pocket.

"…"

_Dead battery. Go figure._

First charge, then he was getting some answers.

* * *

_1138 Detrital Way, 5.6 Miles Out From Kuoh Academy, 10:58 PM_

Raynare looked quietly over the mutilated body of the previous home owner. Smaller bit and pieces of him were being scavenged and cleaned from lower members as they tried to fix the _clusterf %k_ of a situation they were in.

She turned to the pained priest as he cried and cursed while one of the Fallen sent to assist was healing his…'wounded pride.' He had no shortage of foul words and petty thoughts to shout as he watched the Angels try to make sense of what was going on.

As far as they were able to make out from the nun's ramblings and the priests disgusting language, Freed Sellzen decided to go on a murder binge against anyone associating themselves with Devils. And even then against those who weren't ('had to cut all ties,' he claimed).

Raynare held no true love for humans. They were the 'grounded,' after all. They were a different species – nothing else. She allied with them when needed, viewed their progress over the course of her short life, and that was it; they held no real need or desire of thought from her. She felt even less fond towards the Devils, for obvious reasons. She enjoyed the thought of doing combat with the Devils, even. Fallen Angels were always given a backseat in assumed worth because they didn't have their own world –

Heaven to the Angels.

Underworld to the Devils.

Earth to the Humans.

So where did that leave the Fallen?

They were the outcasts. The nomads of Earth and the Underworld.

How pitiful, she thought, how it must have seemed to the other Factions to have these wandering no-names, taking the resources and space of their worlds. The humans might have been unaware and the Great Satan Lords might have granted mercy and freedom in their world for them but this was all an _act_. Raynare could not imagine how the leaders of the races must have seen the Black Feathers: as a waste of space? Freeloaders? How could they see them as anything more than annoying cockroaches – _groveling_ at whatever scraps they were deemed worthy to hold onto?

The thought left the Fallen Angel _furious_.

But despite her own personal feelings, she held no hate for humans. Neither prevalent love nor hate – they were what they were. And she was fine with that.

But the bloodshed of this home's human…and the other human homes Sellzen had ventured into…

It was unsettling, even to the Wrathful Fallen.

Asia stood away from the rambling priest. She didn't seem well, holding herself tightly as a pair of the Fallen asked her silently what had occurred. They were kinder then Raynare would have been. Not that she would have been necessarily cruel, but she would have demanded answers quickly. Others had been sent to assess Sellzen's escapades on the other homes – cleanup duty, as it were. This was going to be a long night.

She glanced around to her peers, scattered from wall to wall of the room, performing any simple task they could of to improve the state of the homestead and renew its previous disposition. Each one was significantly older than she and specialized in the tasks that were currently being conducted. Silently, she marveled at the coolness each one held, dealing with this horrible situation without expression. What horrors or travesties had they witnessed to desensitize them to this massacre? Certainly, one or two of them had likely fought in the Great War - a time were horrible, unnatural occurrences were most likely the norm. But the rest? How many years of age were they? What wars, assignments or gross situations had they been required to work through for the sake of continued Grigori preservation?

Was this what it meant to be a professional? To be able to take everything that was thrown at you - that was required of you - and take it without complaint? Was this what separated Raynare from those of centuries-millennia worth of experience with life?

She could honestly say she wasn't sure.

She hazarded the thought of calling on Azazel. For advice, for council and understanding on how best to deal with the Freed character.

But perhaps she shouldn't. Calling upon the head Fallen for every situation might have made her appear weak or undependable. When she requested a shift of duty from the Hyoudou boy, Azazel was more than accommodating. He'd admitted his fears might have been misplaced and encouraged a new station for her.

She'd been gracious when he hadn't asked past her…incident with the _stairs_…

How could she ask for his continued assistance now when everyone around her was doing their best to make this night look better than it was?

These were troubling thoughts she forced herself to move past as she watched as one of the Angels questioning Asia moved to her side. She corrected her composure. "Anything new?"

"Well, nothing aside from Sellzen's attack on Devil sites. Apparently, the nun wasn't aware of his actions. She's in some shock."

Understandable and Raynare was already aware of this. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, that's what I came to talk to you about. We got confirmation about the individual who attacked Sellzen before we arrived."

"Devils." Raynare knew this already.

"Yes, but we have a name to go with the attack," Raynare lifted an eyebrow. The priest hadn't been so vocal, only calling his attacker a 'pussy' and 'cock-lover.'

"And? What was the name?"

The Fallen coughed lightly, clearing his voice. "Naruto, ma'am. A Naruto Uzumaki. I hope I got the pronunciation right…"

* * *

_What have I done…oh my lord, what have I done…?_

Asia wasn't good. This much was certain.

Dead bodies, murderous priests, Fallen Angels cleaning up the mess left behind – it was a full day for the nun. Having a hand in causing the deaths of numerous households that, similarly, the Fallen were playing cleanup crew for was also a disheartening circumstance.

She was devastated. She just wanted the day to end. She wanted to go to the church, fall to her knees, and pray for all those lost to Sellzen's blood craze. She wanted to pray for forgiveness and for her foolishness. She'd made a mistake that had cost many others their lives. She wouldn't live down the images of the house owner's torn body for many years to come, this she was sure of; the thought that she had a part in this man's death was…

She told the Fallen Angels everything – everything she knew from the time she set out with the priest to the point of their arrival.

She told them about the Devils. She told them about Freed's crimes. She told them about the blond boy who leapt out the window before they arrived – everything. She admitted to telling the boy to run and confessed her unwilling part in the attacks on the humans. The Fallen hadn't been resentful – they accepted what had happened readily and did not blame her or call out a fault.

She was all too happy to know that no one blamed her but herself. She would live with this pain but grow stronger from it, as her lessons had told her. On the side, she wondered what the church would think of this. They kicked her out once – what more could they do? She could only repent and admit to be an unwilling and unknowing accomplice to the man while seeking the wisdom of God in finding what she was meant to do from then on.

_Oh lord! Forgive this humble servant! She meant no harm to be given to anyone and asks to be guided onto the righteous path ahead!_

Her musings continued for some time, the guilt eating inside of her. Aside from God, the church, and the Fallen Angels, she wondered silently about how her mistake might look to the boy from the day prior, and how he might react to knowing her fallacy.

The thought made her eyes grow watery again as a dark figure loomed over her.

Asia looked up, attempting to compose herself in front of the female winged figure before her.

She sniffed sadly. "C-can I help you, Angel-san?"

Though Asia couldn't register the look, innocent as she was, the Fallen Angel's features were hard and unkind as she _glared_ to the girl. Even if she was aware of the cruel appearance of the woman beside her, she wouldn't have been aware of the reason.

"I am guiding you back to the church," the Fallen's voice was firm and uncompromising. "We will figure out what to do then."

Asia nodded, standing as the Angel pressed a hand to her shoulder, pushing her towards the door.

Despite the treatment, Asia felt relief. The night was finally over. The next day would bring new respite and warmth to her heart.

She didn't realize how she should have truly felt then.

* * *

_Church Facility, 11:23 PM_

Raynare closed the door to Asia's room roughly as she finished her escort task back to the church. Her teeth were grit and tight, her grip having not left the handle to the door due to her squeezing it tightly.

The Fallen Angel was furious. Absolutely _furious_.

Upon discovery of Asia's involvement in the blond haired boy and her pacifism to seeing him unharmed, Raynare found herself overcome by raw fury. It was an uncertain fury; why her anger was now directed to the nun child wasn't entirely clear to her.

Was it because of her willingness to let the boy go? To warn him of their coming? Perhaps it was the way she seemed collected in the fact that Naruto wasn't the attacker of the household? Was she simply an outlet to the building rage that seemed to be growing every moment her mind thought of the blond haired _hero?_

_Naruto Naruto __**Naruto**__!_

The mind of a Fallen Angel was often one-tracked when their sin took over their senses. In the case of Raynare, young as she was, her ability to control the urges brought on by her sin of wrath was minimal at best. In fact, she rather encouraged those feelings to take over. To her, the wrath and fury to fight against those who thought the black-winged Angels were beneath them made her strong. Made her stand out amongst the smaller Fallen who didn't strive for higher positions.

She was trained by Azazel-sama himself! She had aspirations and the dedication to pursue the positions set forth by her lord and master. She would do _anything_ to make him proud of her. He was the father her own father could not be and when he smiled to her, she could only imagine that the joy she felt was what she would have felt if her father had lived to see her grow.

So yes. Azazel-sama was her inspiration. To pursue his position and to gain his attention was her deepest desire, though it wasn't to a level obsession to see him look upon her positively (obsession was his thing). She wished he would see her worth; no more, no less. Especially when many saw her as the 'freeloader among freeloaders.' Azazel-sama saw her as a trophy that could be polished to shine brightly above all others. Her reason for becoming strong was to prove the worth of the Fallen, by any means, so as to hear his kind words.

But Naruto was against this. She wanted to prove herself with the elimination of Issei Hyoudou and found herself defeated. She wanted to defeat the Stray and feel some confidence in her strength but the blond had beaten her to it. She was to protect Asia Argento from the horrors she might have faced – and _he_ was there.

_Naruto_.

Raynare's hand left the doorknob and slammed into the wall beside her; leaving a decent, hand-sized dent into the stonework. She felt as if she were _choking_ on the fury, even going so far as to consider taking her anger out on the child in the room over just to ease the pressure in her throat. It wouldn't be Naruto, but at the moment, she felt like spreading the anger out on something.

It was this temperament that made Wrathful Fallen subjugated to prejudice and fear amongst even her own kind.

But to the figure walking towards her, it was this attitude that he desired _dearly_.

"My, oh my! My dear Fallen Angel-sama, you look troubled," Raynare turned her head to the voice, watching as Father Galilei casually walked beside her, offering a small bow of his head in simple respect.

Raynare acknowledged his presence. "Can I help you, father?"

She wasn't up for being disturbed amidst her anger, so the father spoke quickly, "I just came to see how our dear Argento-san was holding up. I heard she had quite the unorthodox night, hmm?" His tone was kept friendly and his smiling face didn't hold the slightest hint of ill intent.

"So it would seem."

"But now? I dare say it seems _you_ could use some advice, as well. I haven't seen such a troubled female – or Angel, for that matter – for a very long time." He opened his arms up to the woman. "Come! Confess what thoughts trouble you this night!"

Raynare stared at the man. "My troubles and thoughts are _mine_ _alone_." She made to brush past him and retire for the evening. The girl would not be awakening anytime soon; best now to rest and wait for her continued duty in the morrow.

Moving past the father and down the hall, Galilei scratched his chin as his smile widened. "Then, perhaps I could offer you something _more_ than just kind words?"

"What could _you_ offer _me_?" She didn't pause in her walk down the hall.

Despite this, Galilei smirked. "_An opportunity._"

Raynare, to her credit, didn't stop on the dime like the father hoped she would. It took her a moment to realize she was curious about what sort of 'opportunity' a man such as the priest might have had.

She hesitated for a brief moment, turning her head slightly, catching a glance over to the man.

_Hook. Line. __**Sinker**__._ "Do you know what's possible when the moon is full and a Sacred Gear holder is within your _grasp?"_

* * *

Asia listened. She listened for a good, long while.

The sound of Raynare slamming her fist into the side wall alerted her to something amiss from outside her room. She made to check in on what was wrong before she made out the voices.

She heard the father speak of 'opportunities.'

Asia listened to the boasts of the power the full moon held; how Sacred Gear holders were swayed by its hold and how an encantation was made to obtain what was given to humans by God. She heard the man talk about power given and rightful places _taken_ by the Fallen Angels. She heard how the priest talked about Raynare's place in the Fallen government would be nothing more than 'lap dog' so long as she remained where she was.

She heard the father play the melody of desire to the Fallen Angel's ears.

And she heard her guardian admit her '_interest'_ in such an idea.

That was all Asia heard before she made for the window of her apartment, opened it quietly, made sure to carefully leap to the soft ground below and sprinted to the city.

* * *

_Complex Apartments, South End of the City, 1:57 AM…_

Azazel stared silently out of his apartment's window, mulling over recent occurrences with a glass of fine white wine in hand.

The past six hours had not been forthcoming with good news…

_Renegade Exorcists; crazed priests; garrisons missing and now Raynare is nowhere I can sense._

The grip on his glass tightened at the thought of his missing pupil.

By all accounts, his female ward was quite young. Roughly ninety years of age and experience and she thought she understood the universe. Frustrating, really. Azazel wondered if he'd been like this when he was her age, some thirty-forty millennia ago.

It was possible. Children did act out, even Angels. He recalled Father liking to forgive him, though, even when he tampered with his little inventions and creations.

Now, pranks could lead to 'falling' as a punishment.

Sad, really. It was 'all work and no play' up in Heaven.

But that was neither the issue nor the present concern. At the moment, Azazel's control over his faction was being challenged. What was worse, it wasn't over a portion of his people in either the Underworld or a group in Europe or the States – but right under his _nose_. That was a challenge of his _personal_ control.

By whom, he could only guess. And while his guesses were usually pretty accurate, without proof, moves could not be made without appearing rash or hasty with the 'misplacement' of Raynare.

_And everything was going so well until now…_

Giving Raynare the task of watching someone of such small worth as the perverted Hyoudou boy was brought upon for a simple desire – _humility_. Her growing pride, temperament and even sadism were widely becoming known, as was her growing unease with those outside of Angelic background. She often believed herself better than those with thousands of years of duty and began to speak out against her ranked superiors (with the exception of Azazel himself). Her entitled nature wasn't a trait Azazel desired from her; she was too young, too innocent and precious to him to allow such dark emotions to drive her to into doing something she would later regret. And she would – Azazel could attest to decisions made in life that he wished he could take back.

When he realized the perverse actions of Issei Hyoudou might have been too much for her, and that such a life altering decision might be soon upon her, he came up with a plan to counter this –

Naruto.

His capability was meant to put her down a peg; to make her acknowledge the value of others who weren't Angelborn and reflect on her lack of supposed invincibility.

Naruto was an exceptional human, but a 'grounded,' as Fallen Angels sometimes called humans and those without the ability to fly, and that alone would burn her. When she arrived at his home after her run in with the boy (or, 'stairs,' as she called the situation) and had subsequent days of rest to replenish her lost sense of worth, he decided that she'd learned her lesson and deserved a reward for it.

That's when he introduced her to Asia Argento.

Was this decision done too hastily? Perhaps. He doted on the girl; that much was known. He wanted to see her flourish and blossom as if she were his own.

But now she was nowhere to be found.

All he could do now was wait and send Baraqiel and his legion to search for his lost pupil. Baraqiel - Azazel's most loyal and devoted lieutenant and lifelong friend - did not hesitate in his willingness to assist in the search for his lord's missing ward. He'd been the first to volunteer in the searching, in fact, and having known Baraqiel for more years than Azazel could count, the Lord of Fallen was certain the serious, rigid man would go to any lengths, search the depths of the Underworld or even storm the Gates of Heaven themselves, if it meant finding Raynare, safe and sound.

THAT was loyalty.

Of course, once Azazel considered the idea of Heaven itself, an uncomfortable laugh forced its way through his lips, especially with the troublesome idea that came with it.

_Maybe if I pray, Michael would be willing to help me -_

**Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing!**

Azazel blinked from the thought, reaching into his pocket and glanced at the caller id. An eyebrow rose at the name.

_This… might have its uses._ He thought, carefully considering what he would say before taking a deep breath flicking the phone open.

"Before you say anything," he started, "I want to say that I have had _no_ involvement in the actions taken against your 'aunt's' Peerage in the last several hours. Some of my people have gone off the map, along with an Exorcist I am sure you are acquainted with by now. Be certain, I am doing everything I can in locating them presently. If any information comes up, I will forward it to you first before all else."

Azazel held his tone firm and cordial and held back no information pertaining to Fallen Angel involvement. The associate on the other end was a capable ally and, while not quite a 'friend,' he was an acquaintance of some familiarity. He wasn't someone he wished to see ties cut because of this unfortunate circumstance that even he, Azazel, founder and leader of the Fallen and Exiled organization 'Grigori,' could not have foreseen.

Thankfully, after some bated breath, he got a reply.

"_I'll keep in touch._"

The other line ended; leaving Azazel to do little more than sigh at the ill-fated happenings. Taking a long sip of his wine, Azazel looked out over the city from his balcony.

_It could be worse,_ he thought, allowing a grin to slowly come to his face.

_If Naruto's handling things then maybe this could end better then I hoped._

He certainly had a way of doing the impossible...

* * *

_Old School Building, Club Room, moments later…_

Running a hand over his eyes, Naruto groaned as he leaned back into the sofa, letting the phone slip to the table with an audible clang. His opinion of the last three hours could be summed up into one word: _problematic._

Rias was handling the situation carefully. One of the first moves she wanted to make was to call on the Underworld's higher authorities but realized that doing so would more than likely create a warzone out of the entire city (or even the country). While not yet a fully recognized adult amongst the Underworld's higher class, that didn't mean she had to feel incompetent. She was a Gremory – excellence in upholding the nature of the Underworld was a task befitting one who belonged to the 72 Pillars.

But this resulted in the question of how do you handle a situation that involved Fallen Angels and the church without causing a multi-world incident?

At first she opted for a simple approach; sending her Peerage and familiars to secure locations around her contract holders. If nothing else, she would receive news if any more contract holders were being targeted. Which, in the circumstance that another attack would occur, motions could be made to assemble the Devil hierarchy for a possible all-out attack. Regrettable as it might have seemed, one incomplete-Peerage and a son of Lucifer would not be enough to handle an army of Fallen.

Secondly, she had Naruto sweep Kuoh Academy for any disturbances. She wouldn't put it past an enemy with familiarity with the Devil contract holders to not decide to attack the main stronghold of her Peerage while the situation was on the brink of chaos. And Naruto, while only one ally to her cause, was more than capable with dealing, or at least stalling, a potential onslaught while Rias worked to secure her people.

And all the while, Naruto made some calls.

To make long conversations and calling in favors short, no one was aware of what was occurring. This attack was an unprecedented move, as he expected, and wasn't a move spoken on open channels. Whoever organized this attack wasn't making noise and that meant he (or she) was either taking their sweet time to make their first move or they were exceptional at not making a peep about their plans. Both ideas were annoying to consider.

Azazel was his last call. He was the only Fallen Angel in his immediate contact list and one who was avid with answering and making calls (Dohnaseek couldn't afford a cell phone to save his life). Naruto opted to make him his last call out of security purposes; if he had anything to do with the slaughtering that happened…

But Azazel answered quickly enough. He certainly made it obvious he wasn't the one who orchestrated the attack on Rias's contracts. Naruto, despite being only over the phone, could hear it in his voice. The man wasn't entirely trustworthy – he always seemed to have his own agenda in the matters of the world – but he wasn't a liar. His skill was in the truth and telling you exactly what he wanted you to know.

Whether this was good or not, now that he realized the head Fallen Angel wasn't behind his rogue associates, was an uncertainty. This was happening right under his command and he wasn't even aware…

_And I thought ninja were the backstabbers and political coordinators._ Naruto let out a long breath, closing his eyes as he stretched himself out over the couch before the door behind him opened to show Akeno's elegant form walk in. Turning his head, he gave a small wave before closing his eyes to allow himself an ever so brief reprieve.

Akeno, grinning, walked up behind the couch and leaned down towards the blond. "How are you doing?" She asked quietly, her voice soft as she tried not to disturb him.

Naruto offered a small shrug. "Tired, actually. _Really_ tired."

Akeno smiled still, lifting a hand as she ran it through his lengthy blond hair. "You've had a full day."

"Hmm." Naruto hummed, silently enjoying the hand going through his hair. It was soothing.

"Koneko and Kiba are heading back now. No incidents. Looks like we stopped the Exorcist before anyone else got hurt."

"_Hmm…"_

Akeno's smile widened as she watched the blond slowly drift off to her touch. "I just put Buchou into the separate bedroom next door. She almost fell asleep at her desk. Looks like she'll need a wakeup call in the morning, it seems."

"You going to bed?" Naruto groaned out, surprisingly relaxed by the simple hair play.

"I am. Just wanted to say goodnight before I headed home." She said, as she gave one last touch to the boy's mess of hair before standing and walking to the door.

Flicking the light switch on the wall, Akeno smiled as she saw the boy doze off. It would seem she would have to wake both of the club room members when morning came.

Offering one last, quiet farewell and a long glance at the tuft of blond hair, Akeno left the club room and made her way out of the Old School Building.

* * *

A minute passed…

Five minutes passed…

Ten…

Thirty…

An hour passed, then a soft buzzing came from the phone on the table, lighting up the room before a hand moved over it to pick it up.

Flicking it open, the owner of both appendage and device looked over its contents.

**_Place in the Sun_**

**_Exact Location Unknown. Special Note: Within City Limits_**

**_Missing Asia Argento_**

**_Request: Protect_**

**_Reward: _****_10,000,000_**

**_Additional Info: Death Invalidates Request. Unknown Designated Time of Finish_**

**_Accept/Reject_**

Naruto stared at the message in the dark club room.

Click!

_Looks like I'm skipping class. _Naruto thought, standing up and making for the door. _Time to find me a Priest Girl…_

* * *

_The City, Mall Area, 3:21 PM_

Naruto was a former ninja. Naturally, a certain level of tracking and navigational skill was expected. Whether through tundra, forests, deserts or even over an ocean, ninja prided themselves over their abilities. They could spot natural disorders from man-made ones and follow paths accordingly.

Despite this, however, the City was _HUGE!_

Naruto found himself checking every dark corner and alley he was familiar with. A major problem with searching the City was in part due to the overabundance of man-made disorders. The population was just too vast to make it easy to discern what might have been the priest moving around or just a human or city animal of some sort. He looked into forested area; park areas; the area surrounding the church, police stations, hospitals, the sewer system – anywhere someone would naturally hide in the situation that they were being pursued or wanting to hide from others.

Going well into his twelfth hour of search, Naruto was starting to groan from his lack of progress in finding the nun.

No gossip, no rumors, no sign of a long-blond headed girl; his initial results were starting to feel like they were insulting his ability.

_Seriously? SERIOUSLY?! Nothing?! How – how could it be this hard to find a __**Priest Girl**__?!_

Normally, calm professionalism would override childish frustration any other day of the week. Lack of sleep, food and outcome was starting to frustrate the blond, however. Plus, calls from Rias and Akeno, asking why he missed class were becoming annoying after the fourth call (from each).

Now, standing atop the mall area's main building, Naruto looked over the people. They were eating, talking, walking and enjoying the last work day of the week. None had a care in the world as the blond tried to make out any sort of abnormal dressing from teens and children alike.

Fuming slightly at yet another failed attempt in his search, Naruto looked over the park area; glancing over the tree tops to make out the slight fountain area he hadn't had a 'scuffle' with a certain foul-tempered Fallen not even a week ago.

He would have laughed.

_How ironic would __**that**__ be if she was hiding there –?_

A glowing violet glyph appeared, only just visible over the trees, just beyond the fountain area.

From atop the roof, Naruto stared at it.

_Huh…_

* * *

_A few minutes earlier…_

Being born into a church system, raised by a church system, and tutored by a church system did not necessarily mean that one's life was expected to be poised, petite and without enjoyment. There were restrictions, lesson plans and obligations but they were not usually overwhelming to the point of exhaustion or anger. It was a system that had been in place for centuries; modeling and educating young men and women into valuable members of the church to spread the good will and knowledge of their Lord God. There was nothing wrong with it; it was not for everyone, to be certain, but it wasn't as horrible as some media made it out to be. Nuns and priests found the life adequate and fulfilling. And that suited them just fine. To some, the love of God could sustain them indefinitely.

But to Asia Argento, the last few hours had been the most fun; most exciting; the most _incredible_ hours of her life!

The mall, the arcade, the food – everything she'd experienced since midday had been invigorating and unimaginably exquisite! She'd never imagined the world was as it was; so full of wonder and enjoyment that spread out far beyond the church!

Since her escape from the Church, Asia kept to the thickly wooded areas she grew familiar with while she 'worked' with Freed the previous day. She hadn't seen Fallen garrisons or search parties but didn't want to put it past them to be searching for her via magic or enchantment. She slept when she could and made movements when she thought she was closed to being found.

But Asia was not a woman of notable stamina or endurance; her strength was slowly waning from lack of sufficient rest or food. She realized, after avoiding another open area, that it would only be a matter of time until someone from the church discovered her.

Interestingly, it was amidst this distraught acceptance that she came upon someone she hadn't expected to see; the boy from a couple days before who kept her company.

It was her belief that God's blessing must have smiled upon her then. The boy was the kindest, sweetest, most heartfelt individual she'd ever met. He bought her food, brought her to an arcade and even won her a gift! They walked and talked and he saw her, not as the nun or Sacred Gear holder she was, but as a _human being_. The way he smiled and believed in who she was _erased_ the self-doubts in her heart. The last several hours of running and depression all but evaporated with but a flicker of his ever-glowing smile.

He was the brief flicker of light in her world full of darkness.

Indeed, as the two walked through the park after enjoying their time at the 'mall,' Asia knew she was truly happy being around this boy.

She wished it could last forever – she truly did! – but then she saw a flicker of black from the corner of her vision and knew her time was over.

"Ah! Sorry-sorry!" She apologized, making quick motions with her hands, arcade-won toy still held tightly, as she moved away from the wonderful boy. "I-I'm afraid I have to leave now! T-the church is expecting me! I have to go now but I'll s-see you soon, okay?!" She didn't wait for him to respond back. She turned and ran in a random direction, away from her friend, as the boy yelled after her nervously.

She ran for some time, deeper into the wooded area. She was sure the boy did not follow her; he was kind and sweet and honest and she did not want him to be involved in her situation. To Asia, she did not deserve to stand beside someone as wonderful as he. She was just a sinner; someone who failed to uphold the will of God and was excommunicated because of it.

She knew her place in the world now. And now, her punishment was upon her.

Stopping in a small clearing, Asia caught her breath as a large violet glyph appeared, symbolized with intricate designs and energy. It glowed brightly as a pair of smooth, flawless slender legs fell from the runic energy, followed by a tight, leathery clad torso with a similar voluptuous shape. Then a beautiful face with long, night-sky dark hair followed.

Raynare touched down to the earth, her black wings unfolding as she made a display of her ability. The message was clear; Asia was trapped.

Looking down to the nun, Raynare smiled as she looked to the small stuffed toy held tightly in the nun's arms. "Did you have a fun day?" Asia didn't answer her. Despite trying to put on a brave front, she was trembling. This only made Raynare's grin widen. "Are you going to run?" Asia shook her head. Where would she run to even if she did manage to escape the Fallen Angel? "Are you going to come then?"

Asia hesitated for a moment. This was condemning herself; she understood that. If she went with Raynare she would most likely die. She wasn't a fighter. Going against the trained woman would have been stupid. There wouldn't be a shining knight to save her – just a quick end for the sake of what was inside her.

If she fought back, it would only end badly.

Carefully placing the small, yellowish toy onto the grass, Asia walked over to the Fallen, who placed her arms and wings around her carefully in a tight embrace.

Raynare's mood was definitely improving from the previous night as she raised themselves towards the hovering energy. She had the girl, learned the spell, had fellow Fallen Angels beside her and the backing of a very well informed priest and psychotic Exorcist (she could have done without Sellzen's help but it seemed he came with the packaged deal). Now, with the time nearing, she felt herself relax with the young nun in her arms.

Soon, she would have all that she desired.

Asia's eyes were closed, holding back tears, as she tried to think of the good in her life before the inevitable bad that would soon come.

If she had kept her eyes open, right at the last moment, she might have noticed a figure running towards the open space of the park…

* * *

Naruto cursed; his face contorting as he ran into the clearing, only able to watch helplessly as the Fallen Angel's portal closed. If he'd been a few seconds earlier, he might have prevented the teleport from occurring. But now, all he could do was make out the briefest of details as the two figures disappeared into thin air:

A pair of dark-colored wings and familiar long blond hair.

Now they were gone, without as much as a hint to their new location.

Naruto reached into his pocket, fumbling for his phone.

He needed professional help; anyone noticing teleportation anomalies, high fixtures of magic or even an idea of what a group of rogue Dark Feathers would want with a nun in the first place –

_Squeak!_

Naruto stopped in his step, turning his head down to the sound of the noise as he lifted his foot off the ground. There, slightly smooshed into the earth was a yellow and black ringed mouse-toy of some sorts. Obviously, it was some sort of cheap arcade crane game figurine; Naruto vaguely recalled seeing something like this a few times in his chance meetings within the mall.

Reaching down, Naruto brushed off some stray pieces of grass as he lifted the toy carefully. Glancing between the toy and where the portal was, Naruto carefully put the toy under his arm before starting towards the mall area.

* * *

Hours passed with no sign of Fallen Angel movements; no signal from Azazel or anyone on contact and no proof that there even was a rogue Fallen Angel faction.

Naruto concluded that this was a _very_ well-coordinated operation.

The blond checked a number of hidden or holy sites that the Angels could set up from. A group of rogues couldn't stay out in the open; they would need somewhere to rest and hide while they worked underneath Azazel's thumb. This assumption seemed to make the most sense so Naruto started quickly by going through a mental list of well-known locations a secret organization might frequent with the safety of home field advantage.

The first location was, of course, the city's church.

It stood at the edge of the city, atop a considerable hill that overlooked almost the entire city. It was quite the view, and a strategically sound defensive position.

Arriving, Naruto expected a heavy show of activity, with adequate amounts of Black Feathers, church faculty and maybe even the mad Exorcist. Instead, the location was quiet, with the only prominent activity being a lone priest-in-training, who swept the outside steps with little enthusiasm. After a few minutes of staking out the area, Naruto guessed this would have been too obvious of a location to take the nun and moved on.

He went down the list from most to least likely locations, each proving less occupied or active as the day went on. Old office buildings, an animal shelter, even the sewers – no results, with each location showing less and less evidence of trespassing as time went on.

This came with no small quantity of irritation from the lack of success.

Desperately, Naruto decided to risk 'spreading' his search. Having a few more eyes looking around the city would help in his search of the girl, and time was running short as it was.

With a quick flick of his wrist and several bursts of smoke, several doppelgangers appeared around the original blond. Their likeness was so uncanny, no difference could be found on any of the look-alikes. They were, essentially, 'clones' of the original. Naruto held back a smile as he looked between them, before giving a quick shout and watching as the several copies of himself spread across the city in all direction; becoming his new eyes and ears as he returned to his own searching.

This continued into the late evening. Every inch of the city seemed to have been searched – no Exorcist, Fallen Angel or Priest Girl.

The sun was down and a dire look crossed the blond's face.

He needed Rias.

* * *

_Old School Building, Club Room, 11:43 PM_

The Gremory heir looked up to her nephew from behind the club's desk.

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"'No, you won't help me find the Fallen Angels' or 'no, I refuse to help you?'"

"Both."

"…That is very unhelpful."

"Yes. I am aware."

Naruto groaned. "Why?"

Rias gave him a hard stare. "_Why?_ You are talking about going up against the _Fallen Garrisons _of _**Heaven**_. Consider that for just a moment."

Naruto didn't, keeping to the matter at hand. "There's a girl who needs my _help._"

"Asia Argento. Yes, I am aware. You've mentioned her several times now." Rias pursed her lips. "But I am also aware of your position as a son of Lucifer, a valuable asset of the House of Gremory, _and_ a close relation to the Underworld and Devilkind." Frowning, she crossed her arms. "And now you want to go save a girl – a _nun_ – from a group of Fallen Angels? On your own? Tell me: does that sound like it wouldn't be the cause for a political _shitstorm?!_"

Naruto thought that over. "It probably would." He admitted. "But that doesn't matter. This isn't about Devils, Angels or politics; this is about helping someone who needs help." He crossed his arms, mimicking Rias. "Besides, I have information that suggests the situation with the Fallen isn't a move made by their government but by a rogue faction of some sorts. I believe that qualifies as 'reasonable action' by your Peerage and myself."

This seemed to catch the Heir of Gremory's attention. "Oh really? And how did you come by _this_ information?"

Naruto didn't outright say he was aware that the Fallen Angels involved were rogue members of the Fallen government. His contact with Azazel was kept strictly secretive, even from his father. 'Missions,' contacts, travel arrangements - since his arrival in Japan, Naruto was able to coordinate his private and public life without interference from his family. He wished to keep it as such, so he'd been vague about his findings and reasoning for discovering the missing nun and his beliefs around the renegade Fallen Angels.

"I have my ways," the blond returned, equally persistent in avoiding direct answering her. "Call it a hunch, if you want. An educated one."

Rias's eyes were almost _drilling_ a hole into the boy's head – aiming to unveil his secrets. "I see."

Naruto, regardless, remained undaunted. "The point is the girl might be in danger. I'd bet that for whatever reason the rogues need her for, it's going down tonight and the longer we wait, the better chance whoever's behind this will finish her off soon." That thought wasn't exactly comforting, but this wasn't the first rescue operation he'd dealt with. "If we deal with them now, we might not only be avoiding war talk, but also manage to save a life. Isn't that worth the risk?"

"If it were a Devil taken hostage, yes," Rias answered with a hard tone. "But a nun of the church isn't my ally. I have nothing to gain from preventing the situation between the Fallen Angels and the girl. Without proof that this isn't a sanctioned action, I might very well instigate the Second Great War. Even to save the life of a member of the church, the Fallen Angels will see this as an act, not just by the Gremory House, but by the son of Lucifer, and by extension Lucifer himself, which will bring down the wrath of Heaven _along_ with the Fallen Angels." Her eyes seemed to radiate red. "Millions – maybe even _**billions**_ – of lives could be lost with you wanting to save Argento-san's life. Would you _still_ risk all of that just to save her?"

Naruto didn't hesitate.

"Yes. I would."

Rias stared at him. _Oh how I love you._ "Then you do it on your own." She stated, rising from her desk and making past the blond towards the exit of the club room.

Opening it, Akeno peered inside, smiling calmly. "Just remember," Rias spoke up, "whatever choices you make will affect _more_ than one life." She gave one last glance back to her oldest friend. "I hope you're ready to take responsibility for that."

* * *

Naruto didn't wait long to vacate the club room.

Even in his advanced age (for a human at least), his high-strung days of jumping into the rings of fire weren't completely behind him. He still wasn't one to hesitate when he felt the course of action was the right choice to make. He enjoyed, occasionally, being reckless to a fault (his bachelor party was still a blur) and it was a trait many found endearing.

Even still, the prospect of billions of lives weighing on the decisions made in the next few hours was something to consider, at least for a moment, before making to the door.

_Alright. Not in the city. Should have considered that._ Naruto opened the closed club door. _Then that means they must be stationed_ –

He opened the door, coming face-to-face with the smiling Kiba, sword strapped to his side, and the stoic Koneko, who adjusted her gloves accordingly into a comfortable position.

Naruto smirked to the two of them. "Outside the city?"

"Outside the city." Kiba replied, crossing his arms and perhaps looking a little smug at getting one over his male friend.

In return, Naruto laughed out a groan. "_**How**__? How_ did I not consider that?" Lack of food, sleep and now the precipice of a multi-world war weighting on his mind might have played a factor in his lack of common sense. "And how did you two even know where they were at?"

"We have our ways." Koneko's reply was monotonous as usual.

"Really?"

"You shouldn't underestimate the House of Gremory, Naruto. We _know_ things," Kiba's smile was a contagious thing, and Naruto's grin grew as he felt demonic power form around his feet, holding a level of mischief behind it.

"Yeah yeah – quit your smiling and let's go!" The red energy devoured them in a shine of light that lit the hallway for the briefest of moments before going dim once more, with the three Kuoh Academy students nowhere to be seen.

Around the corner, Akeno smiled to Rias.

"You are a most doting aunt, Buchou."

"_Shut up_."

* * *

_Outskirts of the City, Abandoned Church, 11:49 PM_

Every city has their abandoned buildings; their little secrets; their troubled areas that people try forget for the sake of keeping up the appearances of a stable community. In the case of the near-desecrated church, which barely held itself together at the limits of the city, this might have been one of the few areas in Japan that might have been considered for all three of the non-mentionables previously stated. It held a long, endearing history that needn't be mentioned. It was old, abandoned and held fond memories too many now past from the world, nothing more.

The church's structure was actually quite simple; grayed, previously white wooded walls, dust covered windows and patches of unkempt grass areas could be seen, even from the outside. And while nowhere near as large or old as Kuoh Academy's old school building, especially after its renovation, the church still managed to appear elegant under the moonlight and dense, untampered forests around it. It was wild, yet peaceful, with a good distance away from any wandering eyes from the city's populace.

Which was why, only recently, the area had become the new hotspot for the renegade faction of Fallen Angels and church members.

Atop the roof of the 'abandoned' church, a young woman sat quietly, rocking her legs in boredom as she waited for something – _anything_ – to happen. She had with medium length blonde hair and a peculiar, almost cosplayic Lolita black outfit. Her eyes were blue, her skin was a shine of slight tan under the brightly lit moon and her stature was considerably short. Despite appearances of her being a young woman, or even a teenage girl, this woman on the church was well over a thousand years of the human world, with considerable life experience on the side.

Her name was Mittelt. She was a Fallen Angel – _rogue_, as it were. And she was upset.

"AAAAHHHH! COME ON ALREADY!" Mittelt shouted to the night sky. "Something happen already! I'm _bored!_" Centuries of life experience meant little to her, it seemed, in the way of understanding the value of patience. "This is the worst! Guard duty is the worst thing _ever!_"

She was going on her fourth hour of looking out around the central area around the church. Her associates/other guards were going through the rounds, so now she was all alone, required to lower herself to the church's roof and relax amongst the dust, dirt and insects around her. Needless to say, like most Fallen Angels, she wasn't pleased with being required to remain 'grounded' with her duties.

Mittelt ground her teeth as she tapped her foot impatiently on the roof. _What I wouldn't give for some action…_

Funny as coincidences worked, a bright light shone at the corner of the forest line surrounding the church at that very moment. Catching the corner of her eye, the young-appearing Fallen Angel turned her head curiously, just as a small group appeared from the air. Two boys, a girl and each wore an academy outfit from the school across the city and into the _stinking_ Devil territory.

Mittelt smiled. She recognized the design of the outfit by what Raynare mentioned. Which meant –

"Oh! Ask and you shall _frickin'_ receive!" The Fallen Angel watched as the first of the academy students walked quickly towards the church. He was tall, with bright blond hair and a fair complexion under notably piercing blue eyes. The boy behind the leading blonde was of similarly good-looks, with a straight poise and a heart-pounding smile, followed by a young girl of ashen-hair and an even smaller stature than her.

In most cases, blue eyed blondes were her type of men to be interested in getting to know better. His stride was tense but without stutter as he made his way towards the church doors. He certainly was a man of some prowess that would usually catch her eye amongst a crowd. But, she realized with some reluctance, that she wasn't lucky enough to believe she could meet a hot man like that while on guard duty; especially in the middle of the woods and at a time such of night.

So he was an enemy.

Mittelt, sighing sadly, watched him curiously. Either he was brave, prepared, or _really_ stupid. Needless of his reason, she got her 'action' and was going to make the most of it.

So, quickly ridding herself of any reluctance to attacking such a _hunk_, she decided to maker herself known to the advancing blonde. Stepping casually off the side of the roof, she let herself fall to the earth below, directly in front of doors of the church and barring the three newcomers advances.

"Oh joy," the Fallen shouted, catching the small group's attention, "looks like it's my lucky night! Running into a group of lowly Devils on their way to the party!" She brushed stray hair from her face. "Who could ask for more?"

The lead blond, who was now close enough for the Fallen Angel to see rather interesting birthmarks (at least, what she assumed they were) on each of his cheeks, looked her over. "Uh, do I know you?"

Mittelt giggled; even his voice was masculine. "Mittelt's my name!" She introduced brightly. "The most awesome, completely incredible Fallen Angel there ever was!"

The lead blonde and his associates looked her over with somewhat blank faces. "Of course you are," the whiskered man stated with mocking enthusiasm, "and I take it you're here to…stop us?"

"Yep!"

"…From whatever's going on inside?"

"That too."

"…And what's going on inside, exactly?"

"Teehee! Can't say! It's for me to know and you to find out!"

The blond stared at her. "I can do that." He moved towards her, fists clenched and any sign of friendliness lost.

Despite the aggressive attitude (and, perhaps, being slightly turned on by it), Mittelt only smirked in return and raised her hand skyward.

_**Snap!**_

The blond stopped. Around the church, a rippling purple veil of Angelic energy surged around them. From atop Raynare's head, a pair of violet glyphs appeared, rapidly depositing a new pair of black winged individuals – a man and a woman – into the immediate area.

The woman was rather scantily clad woman; wearing what might have been considered business attired had it not been two-three sizes too small in both bust and waist area. Her eyes were a dark shade of blue, with matching colored hair that reached down to below her waist. The new Fallen Angel was pale of skin and large in bust size.

This was Kalawarner. She was, to Mittelt, a promiscuous woman in appearance.

Or a slut. Whichever.

The other Fallen was a male of mysterious appearance. Tall, wearing a gray fedora and trench coat, he appeared tough and formidable in presence alone. A real professional who took no nonsense from those around him.

Dohnaseek. He dressed like a detective from those old crime films she used to enjoy.

Or a pimp. Either or.

And now, with backup that evened the odds between the Devils and Fallen, Mittelt was feeling rather confident as she turned her attention away from her associates back to the blond at the head of his little invasion group. She hoped to see surprise, disturbance, even fear.

Instead, the stud's eyes were now staring quietly at her male comrade.

"I'm surprised to see you here," the blond's voice was low but still hearable from the small distance away.

Confused, Mittelt wasn't sure whom he was speaking to, before the man beside her spoke up to her surprise. "Honestly, the feeling is _mutual_."

She turned her head to Dohnaseek. He looked displeased, even more than usual.

_Huh?_

"I wouldn't have guessed you'd team with a bunch of _rogues_. Doesn't that seem a bit _beneath_ you?" Mittelt turned her head back to the blond, whose arms were crossed, annoyed.

_So they know each other._ She figured. Her surprise wasn't just hers, however. Behind the leading blond, the two other Devils seemed equally interested in how one of her partners knew the blond in front of them. _Okay, not the only one who's seeing this as __**weird**__. Good to know._

"They offered me more then what I was getting from this limited style of life," Dohnaseek answered, crossing his arms in return. "I would not expect you to understand – _you_ who has only lived in luxury amongst the enemy." The male Fallen shook his head as blond crossed his arms, looking at him with disappointment. "Who are _you_ to judge _me_? _Hmm?!_ Let me tell you something, truly righteous _Uzumaki._" He pointed a gloved hand to the hard-expression of the blond. "When you have lived a life as long as I have, _seen_ what I've _seen_, _suffered _and_ lost _what I have, _then_ – ONLY THEN! – may you criticize the decisions I have made!"

Mittelt, and apparently Kalawarner and the other Devils, based on expressions, seemed to be missing some context.

* * *

_Wow._ Naruto stared at his Fallen acquaintance. _I think I just got an Uchiha-spiel flashback here._

Arriving to the church – meeting an eccentric Fallen, being trapped in a barrier, and now finding Dohnaseek was seeking an end to his 'boredom' through illegal, potentially war starting moves – made the last three minutes rather exciting, to say the least.

But, having heard this song and dance before, he decided to skip the pointless talk, skip the witty chitchat and move forward with what was needed to be said:

"I'll call you an ass right now!" It was a good start. "Whatever is going on here, it isn't good! This isn't you – you enjoy _pancakes, sausages and __**milkshakes**__!_ Not kidnappings and anti-government organizations!" He pointed a finger to the Fallen. "Right now, I have a Priest Girl to save! I don't have time for philosophical debates on what's right or wrong! So either you tell me what's going on and get out of my way, or," he brought his hands up and slammed a fist into his open hand, getting his unsaid point across.

The Angels stared at him. "Fine." The middle Angel – Mittelt, he recalled – seemed to be confused, irritated and slightly excited as she raised her hand to the side. "I'm cool with skipping the pointless banter. I'm just here for the ass-kicking! So without further ado - !"

_Shing!_

A spear of light – pinkish in color with a strong pointed edge – appeared in her hand. "_Let's get __**crazy**_!"

Naruto watched as Dohnaseek and the scantily Angel followed suit; shines of blue and yellow lighting the area around them as they held the threatening weapons of angels beside them.

"Don't hesitate to take him down," Naruto heard Dohnaseek shout, watching him swing and twist his dark blue spear around him in preparation. "He isn't someone you can hope to hold back against and win."

"Ha! Really?" Mittelt looked over the blond. "He doesn't look so tough; especially for a Devil."

Dohnaseek looked to the girl. "He's not a Devil."

"Huh?"

"He's _human_."

"_**WHAT?!**__"_ Mittelt didn't take this well, looking between Dohnaseek and Naruto in absolute surprise. "_Him?_ _He's __**human?!**__"_ She pointed a hand to Naruto. "_You're not a Devil?!"_

Naruto pursed his lips. "Trying to skip useless conversation here! …And I am."

Mittelt looked him over again. She seemed to be…appreciating that info, it seemed. "Just went from a nine to a _ten_." She smiled excitedly, confusing the blond further then he already felt towards the blond Angel. "But, business before pleasure, I'm afraid." She raised her spear to her side, letting her wings stretch from her back and take flight along with her fellow rogues.

Naruto stared at his would-soon-be attackers, before turning to Kiba, who looked very confused about the conversation going on between the Fallen and his friend, and Koneko, who just raised her fists, ready for a fight.

"Stop." He held his hand to them. "Wait here. I'll deal with them." He turned away before they could begin protesting. "If I need you, I'll call."

He trusted they would stay back unless called, as he walked forward to the Fallen Angels. He wanted this done fast, and while he trusted the abilities of Koneko and Kiba, he didn't want the Fallen killed and he was certain the two Devils wouldn't hesitate to go in for the kill if needed to.

Koneko would, if by accident, and Kiba had…bad blood with Fallen…

Yes. Less risk. He needed answers, not corpses.

So now, standing before the Fallen, he put his distracting thoughts behind him. All he could think about was who would attack first, who would make the first mistake, and what questions to ask the last one standing.

He decided to take Dohnaseek first.

* * *

_Abandoned Church, Hidden Basement Level, around the same time…_

Asia Argento was chained to a large wooden cross overlooking a group of Fallen and Exorcists, atop a large stage that overlooked them all. Unlike the church above, the lower levels of the room they currently occupied was well-lit and kept an air of clean. It was a large room stretching out as long and as far as the level of the church above, and glowed brightly with lit torches. Whether it was a room added after the Fallen's occupation or was there in it's the original creation wasn't clear to Raynare, who stared quietly over the preparations beside the chained nuns.

The nun was unconscious; put to sleep to not unsettle the moment at hand. What would happen next, she didn't need to see and sleep would dull the moment.

A 'mercy,' it was intended to be, though not many might have seen it as such.

_Nun in chains. Ritual items prepared._ Raynare looked over the needed preparations carefully. _And now,_ she glanced over the clock overhead, _only three minutes left._

She smiled to herself. Everything was going as planned.

* * *

_Abandoned Church, First Level, around the same time…_

Freed Sellzen was frustrated.

After a rapid session of Fallen Angelic healing, he was up, ready to kill and pissed at everyone blond in the world.

As his fingers twiddled with his re-forged holy gun and his other hand stroked his new sword of light, his thoughts went back to the fight with the tool from the night before. The Fallen who'd taken care of him thought he was defeated handedly. Freed disagreed quite vocally.

_No-no, see __**I**__ didn't f&amp;%K up. _He told them/himself._ I just underestimated him._ _I went in a little too over-confident. But of course I was a little over-confident! I mean, look at me! I'm __**me**__! I'm a big deal! And you know who's really at fault here?!_

_**The girl**__._

'_Oh, murdered people are __**soooo**__ scary!' WELL MAYBE THEY WOULDN'T BE, IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A __**PUSSY!**_

Freed's fingers rolled into fists as he heard a round of fighting from outside the church.

_Now once I get rid of that little-blond prick – AND DESTROY THOSE UNHOLY DEVIL SHITS – there will be __**nothing**__ left to get in my way…_

* * *

Dohnaseek was on his side under a number of fallen trees.

Kalawarner was strewn up like laundry on church roof.

Mittelt was held against the church wall a foot from the ground.

Naruto held the Fallen Angel; one hand holding said Angel up without much effort while the second arm punched a hole into the woodwork to the left of her scratched and bruised face.

That was a warning shot. "_Talk_. Or I decide if I should break your wings _before_ your legs."

Mittelt, groaning and in no small amount of soreness, grit her teeth as she tilted her head to look down to her assailant. "Jokes on you, I like it _**rough**_."

Naruto's stare wasn't compromising. He reached around her back, stroked a small part of her back, and watched as a pair of black wings sprung out.

Mittelt didn't seem to expect the sudden, forced reaction from her back appendages. "W-what are you-agh!"

Naruto gripped one of her wings. It wasn't a harsh grip, but it was more warning then he was used to giving and Mittelt understood what one wrong word would mean for her.

"_I could break you like a toothpick_."

"O-o-ok-kay! I'll talk-I'll talk!" Mittelt's eyes were wide and she didn't like where Naruto was going with this. Seeing her associates treated like ragdolls, the last female Fallen Angel didn't like her odds, especially when seeing Uzumaki's friends waiting patiently off to the side, just watching him work.

They didn't seem too perturbed with his actions. "W-what is it you-?"

"What are the rogues planning?" Naruto interrupted. "And where is Asia Argento?"

She stared at him. "I-in that order, or-agh! Okay, okay!" She felt the grip on her wing loosen. "A-a ritual is being done on the nun to extract her power!"

"What power?"

"T-the nun has the power of Twilight Healing within her!" Seeing his still confusion, Mittelt knew she had to elaborate further, lest he tug harder. "I-it's a Sacred Gear! She has a Sacred Gear!"

Naruto's eyebrow rose. _A Sacred Gear? What does that have to do with any-?_

He paused in that thought. Then his face turned to the ground, looking over the dimly lit grass before turning his head up to the sky.

The moon shone; its fullness offering the only source of light in the forest.

Naruto's confused look was replaced with a dawning revelation.

"Oh!"

Dropping the Lolita-outfit wearing girl, Naruto turned around to stare towards the night sky, looking to the moon carefully as if hoping his eyes were playing tricks.

"Oooooh."

He ignored the coughing (and cursing) of the Fallen Angel as he reached for the phone in his pocket, flipping it open.

_**11:58 PM.**_

_Ooooooooh…_

_Tick__._

_**11:59 PM**_

…_shit._

"Kiba! Koneko!" Naruto's yell was enough to startle the two mentioned Devil's from their patient watching. "Inside! Now!" He didn't wait as he moved past the fallen Mittelt, feeling she was effectively out of the fight, before forcing a hard leg forward and nearly breaking the doors of the ruined church off the hinges.

Stepping in, Naruto took in the decrepit state of the church's innards, watching as a familiar, bad-mouthing priest stepped up from behind the lone altar at the end of the room.

Freed stepped out, clapping with a feral grin. "Well well well! _So_ happy to see you all again!"

Kiba and Koneko, stepping up beside Naruto, readied themselves for the mad priest. Naruto stared at him for a moment before ignoring him to stare around the room.

_Very few dust abnormalities. Asia isn't being held here._

"So sorry I had to interrupt our dance from the night before, but you know how these things happen, right?"

_No, wait, defense is too heavy. Has to be here. Just not in this room._ His eyes strayed to the altar. _There's shifted dust…_

"Now, see, I pride myself on not letting anyone get away from me. You might even say it's a thing of _pride_ for me. So when I was forced to let you brimstone stinking turds get away…well, I _wasn't happy_."

Naruto ignored the comment from Koneko about the Exorcist's language, instead staring at the dust around the altar.

_It's not tied to the floor_. He sniffed the air. _Warmer source of air coming from the cracks around the altar. Secret passage? Probably._

"But, it seems fate it smiling on me tonight! Now I get the chance to eat you all, piece by piece, while I listen to the sweet serenade of your screams – OH, HAPPY DAY!"

_Exorcist has a defensive position between us and the altar._

"Now, if the little one and the pretty boy would quietly off for a second, doing whatever you want, I don't care, I want to have a little 'chat' with the blond pussy here!"

_Almost certain that's where she's being held._

He took a step forward.

_Move now._

"Because, honestly, I've been planning on kicking your ass _thoroughly_ since last night when you KICKED ME IN THE -"

Naruto leapt forward, faster than the Exorcist had time to prepare for, landing to his front before lifting his leg back and punting the silver-haired nutjob in his pride and joy…again…

Freed's eyes were wide and unmoving from the sudden shock and pain running through him.

_Why? _He wondered. _Why does he keep kicking me in the dick…?_

Sellzen fell to his side, unconscious.

Naruto stepped over the prone man, pressing his hands to the side of the altar and giving a hard push to send the religious stand crashing into the wall.

And, wouldn't you know it, secret staircase underneath.

_Bitchin'. _"Let's go." Naruto jumped through the passage way, leaving his friends above with literal leaps and bounds, seeing the dim light of torches and the growing shine of a brilliantly bright light of a familiar ritual being completed.

_No no no no no no no no no no no no no -!_

He made it into the lower ritual room, just as Raynare, standing atop a large stage at the far end from the staircase, lifted her arm, which glowed with a not-quite Angelic energy, and slid it into a chained, unconscious Asia. The smooth appendage felt no resistance as it swam past the girl's outer layer of skin, neither damaging nor seeming to even touch the nun's soft skin.

But the sudden screams that came from the quick awakening of the Priest Girl, however, made wondering if the process was pain free _impossible_.

"NO!" Naruto grit his teeth, eyes wide as Raynare slowly drew her arm back from the glowing hole in Asia's chest, holding a glimmering green orb between her fingers.

Naruto didn't wait; he ran towards the stage.

"YOU BASTARD!"

His run was hampered by the sudden arrival of swords of light and dark-clothed Exorcists. They were meant to impede-to slow him down; stepping in between the blond and his intended target. But Naruto didn't even have to stop to answer the challenge, as now a moment later, a white and blond blur ran past his side, clashing sword of light with demonic sword in sparks of energy and fight.

Kiba grunted, holding the dark-clothed men back before lifting both colliding swords over and, with a quick twist of wrist, managing to get past the man's defense and slash past his dark cloth. "Don't worry about us!" Kiba shouted, Koneko moving beside him as Naruto quickly ran through the opening in the Exorcists' ranks. "Get to the girl!"

He didn't have to say it twice.

Naruto made it to the stage, leaping the stairs between himself and Asia and landing beside the Fallen Angel. He stared at the unconscious girl, chained to the cross before lifting his hand, offering a flick of the wrist and watching as the chains holding her chip and break.

He caught her before she hit the ground.

_Breathing slowed. Not trying to stand._ He placed a pair of fingers to her throat. _Heart beat…same as her breath._ Naruto held the girl carefully in his arms, gritting his teeth. Asia Argento was dying; that much was clear.

"Asia. _Asia!_ Stay with me, okay?! Don't fall asleep!" Naruto didn't shake her – it would have done little good at this point – but he tried to keep her awake by any means.

In response, Asia groaned, her eyes looking up to make out the blonde's figure before grunting in pain, curling herself in the his arms.

Naruto looked her over, trying to think of his next move. _Even if I put the Sacred Gear back now -_

"_OH!_" Raynare's sudden gasp caught Naruto attention, turning to see her press the glowing green orb into her chest, the light sinking into her chest without much resistance. The process seemed to be quite energizing; Raynare appeared quite excited as she watched it sink into her breast. Her screams and sighs were eye-catching and Naruto, if the situation not so intense, might have felt uncomfortable around such pronounced moaning.

As it stood, however, his thoughts were only on how, once again, he was too slow to stop even the Fallen Angel from taking the Sacred Gear into herself. And now, it made retrieving the Sacred Gear _much_ more difficult…

Raynare stood above the kneeling Naruto, a heavy blush on her face, panting and smiling as she felt the energy of Twilight Healing flow through her. _This energy…this feeling…it's unreal!_ "Wow! Oh, wow! This is incredible! Unbelievable! A gift of God within an Angel! Has this ever been before?!" She laughed, watching the blond as he glanced her way. Her smile turned nasty. "All those who looked down on me – put me down, _abused me_ – will now know not to mess with the soon to be _champion_ of the Fallen Angels!" Her hands went to her sides. A soft glow of green surrounded her. "And this was meant to just be used for _healing?! _HA! As if!" This was power; simple, pure power. And it was _hers_.

_Oh what I will do with this…_

But first, she thought with a smile, she had one thing to deal with – a matter of pride, to be certain, but still something she couldn't leave behind.

"You know, _Naruto,_" Raynare spoke up, catching the blond's attention with the use of his name, smirking, "in any other case, I _might_ have let you take the girl and run. I don't exactly need her anymore; I got what I came for and I _really_ don't enjoy watching anyone dying from the inside out." Her smirk slowly turned nasty. "But, I'm afraid you're a loose end; I had to go behind my superiors once before when you interfered with the pervert – and now, I've had to do it once more with this little one, and, low and behold, I find you here interfering with my plans _again_." She brushed long black hair out of her face. "You _challenge_ me. You, dare I admit, _beat me_. And, had you been a minute earlier, you might have even saved her and stopped me _again_." That spoken truth of time missed which changed the difference between a life saved or lost made the blond twitch. Raynare thoroughly enjoyed his painful revelation. "I _can't_, in good conscience, let this string of coincidence go." She raised her hand, feeling her own Angelic energy mix with that of the Twilight Healing's, to produce a _far_ superior spear of light.

"So, would you be a dear and die for me?"

She threw the spear, only a meter away, at the blond and his hard staring eyes.

* * *

It was amazing how a small moment can be the change between life and death; astounding how Naruto's only just-missed attempt of a rescue resulted in the suffering, innocent girl in his arms; _agonizing_ for the blond when he considered this fact of his limited power to save this girl.

Second handedly, she reminded him of his youth – his _previous _youth – and those he failed to save when a moment required him to give that extra bit of effort. Those who died in his arms and wouldn't see lives fulfilled because of someone who aspired to change the world by _force_. In his later years, he didn't hesitate to give everything when fighting a foe; if he hesitated or didn't give it his all, people might have died. And now, as a reminder to why he didn't show hesitance in any decision he made, this slowly dying girl, crying in his arms, was like being hit by an Akimichi in full giant transformation in the _chest_.

But now was not the time for guilt.

He failed; he'd admit as much. But now was not the moment to mull over the failings of a life prior; now was the time to make the decision on how to deal with the nun, the Fallen Angel and the Twilight Healing inside of her.

So, devising a quick plan, he made his move.

By the time Raynare lifted the spear back to throw, Naruto was already scooping the suffering nun into his arms and when the spear was half way to piercing the area where he laid, he was already in the air, making a run for the exit.

His escape didn't go unnoticed; Exorcists ran towards him, raising sword and guns in attempt to stop his escape. There were a minor threat to him, but that didn't stop him from appreciating the sudden interference of Koneko and Kiba, who jumped to his side and pressed back the advancing Exorcists.

"Go!" Kiba shouted. "We got your back!"

"They shall not pass."

Naruto offered them a brief glance before nodding and running past the action, jumping over several steps towards the fresh air of the church above, leaving the sounds of Devils fighting rogues behind.

He wasn't aware of the glare that followed him as he ran.

* * *

Naruto set the blonde nun onto one of the church bench; gently pressing away any dust or cobwebs to make sure her comfort was genuine. He brushed her hair out, covered her in his dark academy jacket for warmth and checked her condition carefully. Face red, skin pale, beads of sweat falling across her brow -

She was dying. No stopping that. Even if he put the Sacred Gear back, she would still die.

A Sacred Gear's mechanics were something he was only vaguely familiar with. It was tied to their internal anatomy, almost; removing it was like removing their soul and energy. The method of retrieval, in fact, was also something he was familiar with from work he'd seen before. He was beating himself, mentally, on how he missed the signs, the clues – he'd taken the situation too lightly in his confidence that all would be well, ignored his training, and was now forcing the girl he watched over slowly pay the price for his _stupidity._

His hands were clenched into fists; there were only a few options left in saving her and none were to his liking because most would require further sacrifice on her part.

He couldn't do that. Not to her.

It was during these dark considerations when allowed Asia to slowly wake from her pain to look upon her savior. It took her a moment to realize where she was or who was beside her, but she smiled nonetheless when she recognized the glowering face above. "N-Naruto…?"

Her voice was weak and low but Naruto still managed to hear her. Leaving his thoughts, Naruto knelt beside the girl, looking her in the eye. He wasn't sure what to do now; his mood was too dark to smile with but his features did soften somewhat with her gaze.

"Asia," he greeted calmly, "hey."

"H-hey." Her smiled didn't falter as she stuttered and curled further into the warmth of the jacket. "Y-you came here to save me?"

Naruto's expression faltered. "I did."

Asia's smile only brightened, not seeming to notice his dark mood. "Really? I'm so glad. Thank you."

Naruto's insides tightened. "I didn't save you." His tone was clipped. "I was too late. I _failed_." His hands tightened into fists; causing his nails to dig into his hands enough to cause a minor amount of bleeding.

He ignored it, keeping his eyes on the bright young girl in front of him. "I couldn't stop them from taking your Sacred Gear."

Asia's smile softened. "That means I'm dying, aren't I?"

How she said it… "Yes." He answered honestly. "I'm sorry."

Asia shook her head. "Don't be," she said, "it's alright. You came to save me and _that_ makes me happy!"

Naruto stared at her. "Wha-"

"I'm okay, Naruto," Asia whispered, raising a weakened hand out from the jacket and up to the blond, "really, I'm fine. You came to save me, of all people, and that makes me happier then you could know." She sighed, almost peacefully. "I don't have _any_ regrets now."

Naruto stared at her. "But you're dying." He told her. "You're dying for no reason-"

"It's okay," She told him again, interrupting him with a smile that almost brought tears to his eyes. "I accept it. I knew my life would be hard the moment I discovered what I could do but I didn't let it change me!" She seemed on the verge of tears. "I knew people would look down on me for what I could do; I knew I wouldn't have the blessed life like those around me but that's okay. I accept it." Her complete relaxation to what was happening was astonishing.

Naruto's eyes met hers. In his life, he'd known how to read the suffering of others by the teachings of those around him. He knew the pain; even just by looking into their eyes, he could read what they experienced or felt through their lives.

When he looked into Asia's eyes, he saw _himself_.

"You didn't deserve this." He told her, reaching with his own hand to grasp her own. How small, it was. How cold. "You didn't deserve to be used or abused or _hated_ because of what was inside of you."

"But it is because of it that I got to meet so many wonderful people." Her voice grew stronger for a moment, showing the truth and happiness in her statement. "I got to help so many who needed me. I got to meet you and see Japan and taste a_burger_ for the first time! I got to experience something many could only dream of!" She coughed a little, catching her breath but not allowing her smile to falter. "I know I am probably unimportant to the grand plan of this world but that does not mean I must regret the choices I have made or the forget people who have affected me." Her bottom lip trembled. "I've made mistakes and have seen mistakes be made but that is no reason to doubt the inner benevolence of those around you. I have faith that this was for a reason, beyond what I could comprehend, and that makes it all worth it. So do not worry.

"I have lived and seen a great many things…and I have absolutely no…"

She paused.

Naruto caught this. "What? Have no what?" He was fixated on her words. The passion, the energy and serenity of it all; this girl was _amazing_ and so pure it was unbelievable. It was heartwarming, even in the dark situation around them.

Asia hesitated for a second, her smile disappearing for a brief moment to look surprised before allowing herself to grin again. This time, a tear fell down her cheek. "Well," she started, "I guess I do have _one_ regret."

That caught the boy's attention. "What? What is it?"

Asia seemed enamored in her thoughts. "There was a boy. A boy I met not long ago. He…he made me _smile_. He treated me with kindness and thought I was 'cool.' He helped me, gave me food, brought me to an arcade and said I was his friend before anyone else!" Now tears were falling down her cheeks quite profusely. "He's my only-" she coughed violently. Her time was nearing. "He was…my only…regret…" _Cough cough!_

Naruto held her hand tightly. "W-what was his name?" He was trying to comfort her at that moment. It was the least he could do.

_Dying_ was like falling asleep. And sometimes, you just wanted to do it with a friend beside you.

Asia's coughing was becoming sporadic. Her chest was pounding the last bit of energy she had left. Despite this, she smiled and cried as she thought of the boy who was kind.

"He was _so…so kind…_" These were her final words. "And I regret…leaving him…now…"

The coughing slowed. The harsh movements of her body dulled to a relaxed state. Her eyes dulled and closed and the breath left her lungs.

The grip around Naruto's hand left her, and it slid down off the edge of the bench, unmoving and pale.

Asia Argento, nun to the church and pure of heart, was dead.

Naruto stared quietly at the Priest Girl; pursing his lips as he watched over her.

"Why?" He asked, turning his head slightly to look behind, seeing a familiar promiscuous form which sat quietly to the side, watching them. "Why would you do this?"

Raynare stared back to his kneeling form. "Hmph. It's none of your concern." She stated, standing up. "I needed power, I found a way to get it, and the girl was the cost." Her tone was harsh and blunt, as she walked towards the two humans in the church. "And it was a _price_ I was willing to pay."

Naruto, turning his head back to Asia, shook his head in frustration. "I just don't get you. Power? What good is that when someone has to die for it?" He reached for Asia's hand that fell off the bench and placed it over her chest carefully, as if not to wake her. "She was a _child_ who only wanted to help people. She wanted friends and people to acknowledge her. She was in pain because no one saw her as anything more than a girl with a power she didn't ask for and ridiculed her because of it." He was trembling. "What gave you the _right_ to take what little she had left from her?"

Raynare smiled cruelly, laughing. "Right? My right? Well, that's simple really: my _divine_ right. My right of _strength_. I had the power to take what I wanted and was _encouraged_ into doing so!" Where this attitude was coming from, Raynare did not know but it felt _good_. The freedom to say whatever she wanted without consequence – she had power to choose her own way of life. "And what? You think _she_ is the only one who's _suffered_ in life? HA! I can guarantee you she hasn't the_faintest_ idea what _true pain_ _**is**__!"_

That caught Naruto's attention for the briefest of moments before continuing to tend to Asia's unmoving form.

"She cried, she was hurt, people disliked her – _bagh!_ That is _nothing_. I have lived _decades_ longer then she and have known _true_ _suffering!_" She was breathing deeply, her face contorting into anger before she calmed herself forcefully to regain composure. "So the little nun didn't have a perfect life? Boohoo. No one will care."

Her spite and ridicule of the dead was surprising, even to her. But it was her true, ugly feelings at the moment. Her rage was driving her now; and it was turning her into something _ugly_.

Naruto was quiet for a moment, taking in her words.

Then he nodded. "You're right…she isn't the only one who's had a hard life. Not really." His choice of words surprised the Fallen, not expecting such a casual agreement from him, as he stood up carefully from his knelt position, hardly making a sound. "People are always going to have it hard because that's just how life is. We suffer to build character and make us who we are. That's just how it works." He gazed up to the broken ceiling. "Our decisions and choices, similarly, define who we are and how we choose to deal with the hardships that are placed upon us. Like how we decide between choosing one choice, one evil, over another." Naruto seemed relaxed looking down to the pale Asia, even as he turned his head to look at the Fallen from the corner of his eye.

"So what does that say about you?" He caught her surprised expression. "What does your suffering say about you? Do your decisions really define who you are? Or," he turned around, eyes closing as he took in a deep breath, "are you just pretending to be someone else to make life easier?"

Raynare watched the blond with a careful eye; his words and poise proving to be a sharp contrast from her previous observations. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Naruto didn't answer immediately; instead, he appeared to be thinking over some thought of his own that took his attention away from the slowly frustrating Angel. "I'll explain it to you later," he told her, lifting his head in the direction of Raynare but still keeping his eyes closed, "but for now, I need to get that Sacred Gear back to Asia."

He had a plan. And one, for better or worse, he planned to stick with. And it would require Raynare's 'cooperation.'

The Angel, now thoroughly annoyed with the blond and his random words, stepped back with a snarl. "What? Get it back? To the _corpse?!_" She laughed, her hands both raised to her sides, channeling energy through them to make _two_ spears of light form around her. The small amount of effort it required to perform such an advanced technique made her smirk confidently. "And what if I don't want to give it, huh?! Are you planning to take it from me?!"

"Yes," Naruto opened his eyes, showing, instead of the previous and familiar crystal blue Raynare had familiarized herself with in her dreams, a pair of dark red _slits_.

"_**I**_ _**am.**_"

* * *

**AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH! NIGHTMARE CHAPTER! NIGHTMARE CHAPTER!**

**Sorry it took me so long to update! Exams, internships and the fact that I wanted a nice long chapter under my belt didn't help things!**

**I was really worried about this chapter (though, I think I've said that with every update). Length, information, tense situations - just the fact I tried my best to please everyone with detail in parts that weren't heavily detail oriented – NOT EASY.**

**AND NARUTO'S DIALOGUE IS THE MOST IMPOSSIBLE THING TO GRASP! HE IS OLD, MENTALLY, BUT YOUNG IN BODY! HOW DO I GET THE RIGHT MIX OF THAT WITHOUT GOING TOO OC (Own-Creation)?! Make it humorous, make it serious, I don't know which to choose from! It's hell!**

**But, regardless, here it is.**

**Note: I will start updating more frequently, no worries. This story is going the distance. I just had other things to look over first with my growing work in 3D and stuff.**

**Also, just as a reminder, I have a poll on my page! If you haven't voted on it, you'll want to soon! It ends June first****!**

**Also, just got _The _**_**Witcher 3**_** – ADDICTING. HIGHLY recommend it!**

**Oh, and, ahem: OVER ****22,000 WORDS ON THIS CHAPTER!**

**HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY EVERYONE!**


	6. Rising Tensions, Part 2

CHAPTER FIVE: RISING TENSIONS, PART 2

_The human's 'First World War' was a global event that centered itself on the happenings on the continent of Europe._

_It began, officially, with the assassination of a prominent figurehead, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the heir to the throne of Austria, during the summer of 1914. Rising tensions were already evident around the European nations during the early twentieth century, but for many, the Archduke's murder was the final spark that began the angry protests and cries for retribution from the faulted states._

_A diplomatic crisis arose, bringing several uninvolved countries into the fold, which led to the cries of the people becoming the cries of both nation and government. It was not long, amidst strife and political instability, that the deemed 'Great War of earth' began._

_Challenges between the 'great powers' of the war – the Allied and the Central – quickly saw the advancement of new-type weaponry, tactics, medicine and cruelty. The war left empires in debt; cities destroyed and millions dead. This, as would later be recorded, would classify itself as one of the bloodiest conflicts in recorded human history…_

_However, unaware to most residents of earth, this was not just a conflict of humanity._

_Through the technological advances of the early twentieth century, human society started to become interconnected on an international basis through economic and communicative means. Their influence and growing range of capability stretched across the four corners of the earth and with it, a growing sense of importance started to build. The once-deemed 'grounded' and 'simplistic' humans were being recognized and acknowledged for something beyond their small magical potential, limited life spans and use of over a thousand languages for one race._

_Prior to the turn of the century, humans were laughable to most sentient species for their lack of seeming worth or initial innovation. While mythological beings enjoyed the sacrifices and the worshipping, and they paid those of faith in return with a place in a specific heaven or preferred afterlife as gratitude, often the humans that swore fealty or absolute faith were ignored or even forgotten. The later deemed World War One was, in a way, the moment in the limelight for the human race; the tipping point in acknowledging humanity as a rising species with the potential for expansion into matters of multi-world concern._

_But this consideration would be for much later discussion._

_The true concern of World War One was that it made earth a calling card to all war-mongering and/or battle-hungry worlds between Heaven and the Underworld. Not since the first Great War between the Biblical Races had so many mythologies come together to fight on separate sides of a metaphysical chess board (though, thankfully, it seemed the Angels and Devils were, for the most part, staying out of conflict when either party came into contact with the other (small blessings, it seemed, could be found even in war time))._

_Harpies, Ifrits, Chimeras, Cockatrice, Pantheons, Gorgons, Shapeshifters, Cursed-Beings, Ghouls, Fiends – the names and races went on with no single species deciding to completely stay out of the aforementioned conflict. Even without reason, 'monsters' found themselves out on the battlefields, scavenging and picking off anyone or anything that moved or offered a challenge. As some species of, at least, a modicum of intelligence would later quote, "World War One was the time to come out and play."_

_They weren't wrong._

_But, as was the case in war, there were those who had their reasons for supporting one side or the other. Pride, ideals, freedom, religion, truth, grudges, love, boredom – the reasons were trivial but with the right motivation, any man or woman would willingly lay down their life for what they believed was a true reason to fight. In the case of one particular group of black-winged Fallen Angels, their reason was a proud, well-respected and simple idea for why they stood with the Allied Powers, even when the humans were unaware of their involvement._

_They wished to see a better world._

_The reason was idealistic, virtuous and garnered unintended attention…_

* * *

_Near Paris, France, June, 1918…_

"…I need a platoon in the sky now! Draw their attention north and create an opening for the injured to be moved. Captain Ezain, counter those Kappas or we'll be up to our neck with acidic pus."

"Yes sir!"

"Sergeant Mansator, send a message to Baraqiel and Kokabiel, request reinforcements. Tell them to send whatever aid they can but send it quickly to the southeast checkpoint of the Marne River – we'll meet them there."

"Yes, my lord."

"And you! Get over there and help move the injured through the opening. I expect that tent to be vacant in fifteen. And for HEAVEN'S SAKE! SOMEONE GET THOSE FIRES UNDER CONTROL!"

"**Yes, Lord Azazel!**"

"Dismissed!"

Several sets of black wings shot towards the sky, shooting up leaves and dirt as they went to accomplish their assigned tasks. Each owner to an individual pair of black wings was watched by their grounded leader, Azazel, who easily discerned their different directions even through the fire and smoke that engulfed their campsite. They shot around the burning trees and set-afire tents, trying desperately to follow their lord's command in holding a quick retreat from the sudden and overwhelming presence of monsters and abominations that threatened their hold.

The location was believed secure and well-protected from all sides. In the case of being found, forward scouts were sent and ready to report. Prior to tonight, it seemed a strategically sound location, which wasted no magical power and little manpower to maintain.

But now, it didn't seem as powerful a move as initially perceived. Now, sixty percent of the camp was a giant pyre.

Kappas, Centaurs, Grave Eaters, Basilisks and, if Azazel heard right, a _Manticore_ were officially reported to have infiltrated from the northwest, along with an enormous flock of Griffin who were giving no mercy to anyone who carelessly took to the skies. This coordinated move overwhelmed their position; leaving a trail of death and ruin that threatened every volunteer and Grigori soldier under his command. Even worse was the overwhelming magical presence in the nearby forested area; all modes of teleportation seemed to have been thoroughly _cut_ by what, Azazel guessed, was leading this band of unaffiliated monsters.

_Amazing._ Azazel thought. _And an hour ago, I was trading baseball cards..._

"You, soldier!" He yelled, pointing to a heavily clothed youth, who might have been as young as eight to nine centuries in age, and gesturing him and his small group of ten over. "You're with me. Grab your friends and get ready. We're heading to the front."

The band of young Angels seemed surprised and nervous. "T-the front, my lord?" They could hear the screams all the way from the other side of the camp.

Azazel nodded. "We're helping with the withdrawal. Get ready – quickly now!" Azazel stepped in the direction of the fire and sounds of battle. Flying wasn't an option with the Griffin patrols above. They were on foot. "And remember," he called back, taking a quick glance into the burning mess of tents and smoke, "we are now up against live, _hostile_ targets. So, if you see something move that isn't holding a pair of black feathers, that's your cue to_shiv it through the chest!_Understood?"

"Yes, Lord Azazel!"

* * *

_Other side of Lord Azazel's Camp, a few minutes later…_

Manas was a medic under the command of Lord Azazel. He was an Angel of relatively common appearance – light brown hair, violet eyes, lightly-tanned skin – and served faithfully under Lord Azazel's command since the Governor General decided to assist the Allied Powers in their defense against the Central Command. He was a low ranking medic with little ambition to forward himself through the ranks of his field but was content with such. He sought neither glory nor wealth and was very indistinguishable from many others who stood beside the founder of Grigori. He was a mook; a small member of a grand army, which he understood. He wouldn't have even participated in the war had it not been for one specific reason.

Said reason was now on the front lines; driving a metal pole through the head of a Basilisk and giggling as purplish blood splattered over her front amidst the reddish glow of the scorching tents. The very visage was both terrifying and exotic to the eyes (it was not often you saw a winged female drive a metal object through the head of a reptilian creature amidst fire and ruin).

If Manas wasn't madly in love with this violent, dark-haired, blue-eyed woman standing just feet away over a freshly skewered kill, he might have been unnerved by the image. "I believe that was thirty-_two_, sweetie." Manas voiced, offering a small clap as the long dark-haired woman brushed some loose sweat from her brow.

Said woman, covered in various shades of blood, smiled gleefully. "Thank you, honey-boo!" She pulled the metal pole from the monster's carcass, splattering blood onto the ash-covered grass and moved over to the only man who was crazy enough to stand close to her without flinching. "And how are my two favorite people in the whole-wide cosmos doing?"

Her giggling, almost innocent voice might have been unnerving to most. Manas took it in stride, smiling behind his medic's mask and turning around to show a rather large, camo-green backpack.

"See for yourself," he offered, reaching behind to lift the flap of his bag. The cheerful blood-soaked woman beamed as she reached into the medic's bag and pulled out a comfortably napping babe.

…No, seriously.

Lying quietly at the bottom of the large, rough-looking backpack, without issue or understanding of the immensely dangerous situation the two parents had placed the near-newborn in, the woman slowly lifted her resting child from the sack.

"Oh! You are just _precious!_" The woman squealed, tapping a finger to the resting baby's nose and leaving a small smear of blood. "You are just the cutest thing ever! Yes you are – _yes you are_!"

The woman laughed some more, playing with the child as Manas watched them quietly. Most (99.99%) of sentient life would not bring a newborn to a war-torn, hell-blazed battlefield. Logic, medic's intuition and fatherly instinct were _screaming_ at him that he was making a bad decision (though, since meeting his wife, this wasn't a completely uncommon occurrence). And true, he had attempted to argue on the child's behalf to be sent away for the sake of safety but would hear no compliance from the mother of his child. In her defense, her child was _born_ in a warzone, being little older than a few months in age, so it wasn't like Manas could do much about that. She wanted her close, claiming that any day could be her last with a saddened look that seemed quite different from her usual joyful expression.

In addition, as his beloved put it, the little bundle was also her deemed 'lucky charm of battle' and would not be part from it.

Three hours after giving birth and screaming 'oh-yeah-this-kid-is-mine-and-she's-a-fighter-like-her-momma,' she went off to kill a group of goblins on top of a mountain.

His wife, Captain Yuuma of the First Platoon under Commander Eizer, Fourth Command Regent under Lord Azazel, was the hardest woman he'd ever met.

_But damn if I don't love her._

"Want me to get thirty-three, little one? Teehee! I bet you do!" Yuuma cooed to the sleeping child, stepping forward to place the small child into her husband's arms. Looking quite pleased with herself, the battle-hungry Spartan of a woman turned; picked the steel pole she used to kill the Basilisk from the ground where she dropped it and gave it a toss in a random direction of the camp.

It was quite for a moment. Only the sound of crackling fires was heard.

Then, "**AAAAAAAAAAGGGGG**GGHHHHhhhh…"

The dark-haired Fallen's feature brightened to the screech. "OH YEAH! THIRTY-THREE! WHO'S THE BADDEST MOM IN CAMP?! I AM – I AM! WOOOOT!"

Manas, used to this sort of unprecedented action, only rocked his child carefully, hoping to not have her wake up during such a time. His wife's love for battle and a good fight seemed to skim the lines between being a classified Wrathful Fallen and remaining a Lustful one. Certainly, she didn't seem to notice nor care about her blood-covered complexion anymore, but it seemed only her enjoyment of a 'good night's rest' was what kept her from becoming one of the taboos amongst the Fallen ranks.

Maybe he should have taken that as a boost to his ego.

"Perhaps now would be the best time to retreat and regroup with the others?" Manas asked, carefully adjusting the child in his arms. "You did say you sent them off for their protection, right?"

"Huh?" Yuuma turned and raised a brief questioning eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, right. Safety. Theirs. Right. That was my reasoning." She tried to laugh casually, though it came out blatantly sheepish. "T-thanks for reminding me, puddin.'"

Manas, with baby in arm, smiled behind his mask. "You just wanted a higher kill count, didn't you?"

Yuuma's eyes widened. "Wh-what? _Phhht_, _no_. Y-you _goof!_ I-I was doing this out of the _selflessness_ in my heart!" She laughed awkwardly. "You-you are such a _kidder, you!_"

"Uh-huh…" Manas' stare was soft but unrelenting, rocking the stirring child back to a light sleep. "And being close to your 'thousand-kill milestone' you set last Christmas has had _nothing_ to do with it?"

"…Uhm…would you prefer I lie, or…"

_This shouldn't surprise me as much as it does._ "Yuuma–"

"_**RAAGGGGHHHH!**_"

Whatever Manas was about to lecture his battle-crazed wife on was stopped by the growl coming from their side. Turning to the origin of the noise, Manas' eyes widened as a large, quadrupedal beast walked casually through one of the inflamed tents; unfazed by the scorch or heat. Manas was a man of some knowledge; he understood what was in front of him and knew, above all else, why this creature was considered the apex predator of the northern Netherlands.

Body of a lion; teeth long and pointed, oozing with venomous saliva; mane of thick hair that was said to stop even an Angel's spear of light. In many regards, the appearance was very similar to an African lion; its body structure was very feline like, despite easily being _thrice_ the size of any common large cat of the human world. It stood out further from its more commonly known species with its pair of dark, ebony-colored bat-like wings that curled close to its body and with its tail being disturbingly similar to a scorpion's. Both tail and sharpened claws glistened in the firelight, secreting something very similar to the saliva coming out from the beast's jaws.

There, standing almost proudly with an air of animalistic prowess that begged caution, was a true king of beasts.

_The Manticore._

For a moment, the three just stared at one another, measuring each party carefully.

Manas tightened his grip over the newborn. "We need to leave," he whispered carefully, watching as his wife's face took on a look of seriousness in the sight of this new challenger – one that was known for its rather efficient_brutality_, "we need to leave. _Now_." Manticore were fast, strong and constantly challenged by both their homeland elements and their species in general; seeking to make themselves the strongest they could be by any means. Through points in history, they were officially classified as extinct for their infrequent sightings. For all Manas knew, the Manticore in front of them could very well have been the last of his kind.

That made it even more dangerous.

Yuuma was not as intelligent as her husband. She was the kind of girl to 'stab-first, laugh-at-the-carcass later' but even she was familiar with the legendary feline. Right now, the skies were filled with feral-beaked Griffin, the areas around were invaded with a myriad of monster groups that a single combat-strong Fallen would even have difficulty with, and based on the look on the Manticore's face, it wasn't going to let the three Fallen leave without a limb or two lost.

These predictions left Yuuma's with an expression that sharply contrasted her usual, confident self.

_If we only ran before…_

Turning around, she took the babe into her arms, rocking her with a slightly soft expression on her face, pressing her lips softly to the near-newborn's temple before moving to the backpack her husband wore and slowly lowering the child back in. "Stay close and listen to what I say," she whispered, catching her husband's shock, "if we do this together, one of us _might_ get away," she moved to her husband's side, raising her two hands and focusing the energy around them, "a Manticore's speed could challenge a sprinting wind god and it's venom has the potency to kill a dozen Cyclopes. We only have one shot at this and if one of us messes up," two shines of bright violet light shone from her finger tips, creating rigid spears within her palms, "we _all_ die."

Her husband, though Yuuma could not see with her focus set on the beast, stared nervously to her sweating expression. Her seriousness was startling; not since the Great War had he seen such an expression of such gravity. And back then, they almost died.

"I love you," he told her, raising his own arm and feeling the light blue energy of spear form comfortably into his grip, "I always have and I always will."

Yuuma lowered her stance, prepping herself as her eyes locked onto the slit pair of the hybrid beast. "Don't get sappy with me."

She lunged.

"**AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!**"

* * *

_Elsewhere in the Camp, moments later…_

Azazel cut past a Grave Eater, ignoring its screams and rotten smell as he continued through camp's frontline assault. Shifting his weight, he drove past another pair of Kappa and drove his blond-stained spear into the throat of a Centaur, letting his backup deal with the smaller fry.

The blood was starting to become prevalent on his robes. With most combat during the human war, it was often long-ranged based fighting; mostly thrown spears and balls of explosive light. This close combat crap was disorganized and messy. Quick, maybe, but impractical for how he preferred things. And now, amongst screaming soldiers and terrified retreating Angels, Azazel remembered why he wanted to stay out of the war in the first place.

_**Crash!**_

He turned to see a torn-to-shreds Fallen Angel fall into one of the burning tents. Unsurprising, he didn't move after.

_People dying here, up there, __**everywhere**_.

He rubbed some loose blood from his eyes.

_Kappas, Centaurs, Griffins…and is that a Wyvern?_ His usual calm attitude was starting to erode as the number of Fallen corpses increased. _And where is that damned-_

"_**AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!**_"

…_Manticore._ "You three, with me! Rest of you, withdraw back to the river and meet back to the checkpoint. I'll see you there."

"My lord!"

Azazel didn't turn to see how the others took his command. He headed towards the sound of the roar, confident that the three were following closely behind. Even with crackling fires, screaming monsters, dying Angels and weapons clashing, a Manticore's roar could be heard from a mile away. Their lungs were as powerful as the rest of their bodies; you heard the roar of the Manticore, many would say it was worse than hearing the cry of a Banshee_._

_This has been a surprising night._

* * *

It didn't take long to find the Manticore. The sheer bulk of the creature, even lying on its side, was easily seen over the tents (or, at least, the ones that still stood).

Coming into the clearing, Azazel was the first to lay eyes on creature, his compatriots soon following. Despite being several millennia in age, the site was still one that impressed Grigori's founder, while receiving surprised gasps and amazement to see such a terror by his followers.

The beast was dead. Its torso was full of punctured holes, bleeding profusely, and its tail was hanging by threads of skin, swaying. The mane was torn; burning piles of it scattered around. A front leg was missing, along with several teeth and fangs. The grass wasn't painted red but it certainly showed stains of multi-colored hues of blood. Its corpse still stood strong among the other corpses around it; ever holding its weight in pride and strength, even in its dejected state.

_If I had a minute to take a few teeth..._ Azazel thought, his obsessive side taking over for a moment to consider the rarity of Manticore teeth before shaking such a thought away. It was neither the time nor the place…and the four Angels were not alone.

It took half-a-minute for Azazel's eyes to move from the carcass. His wary vision wandered over the other dead creatures sprawled about, wondering for a moment if the beast had decided to go feral and attack its own side before his gaze came to a pair of figures who were most certainly _not_ beasts.

Laying a few meters from the large corpse, covered in blood and looked little better than the corpses surrounding them, were a pair of figures.

A man in stained, dirtied robes, held a woman closely to himself.

It was a strange sight. True, the war showed many strange things but Azazel never saw anything like this. A man caring for an unmoving woman, surrounded by corpses.

It was eye catching – almost photogenic.

At first, Azazel stretched his senses out to them. Despite the direness before him, he'd dealt with Shapeshifters before and they always seemed to enjoy a sense of flare to their disguises before they attacked. He didn't take the risk that this wasn't just a ploy to lower his guard but upon sensing the residual Angelic energy inside the pair, Azazel stepped quietly towards them. The threat was gone, for now, and two Angels needed his attention. But as he got closer to the pair, taking in their appearance and state, his expression drowned into depression.

The first of the two was a man, carrying a large green and blood-stained backpack over his equally stained white clothes. Most of his person was covered by the apparel he wore befitting a medic, right down to the physician's mask covering his face, but his right arm was bleeding and his left shoulder was open with a hole which, by Azazel's guess, was roughly as wide as the Manticore's pincer.

The medic held, what Azazel assumed was, a woman, though her appearance was most certainly worse then the man's and covered in blood from top to bottom. She was a pretty thing by Azazel's opinion, despite the immense damage done to her. She wore a loose outfit that signified her under the front line command group. The First Platoon insignia held itself by tiny threads to her shoulder; under Commander Eizer's command, he guessed. Her right arm was missing; hair mostly burned away and skin looking ready to _melt_ off. Her eyes were cloudy, peerless and unmoving.

Despite the woman's obvious lack of life, the medic held onto her tightly, muttering sweet nothings and comforts to her ear. She must have died minutes, if not _seconds_, before Azazel's arrival. Watching the man lower his head to dead woman's neck, wailing to her corpse, Azazel couldn't help but take note of the man's skin around the mask and neck. His veins were starting to bulge and turn a weird purplish coloring.

The venom of the Manticore coursed through him. Curable, certainly, if given an immediate antidote within the first minute of infection, but Azazel, nor any of his followers, would have felt the need to carry any with them. Avoiding the Manticore was a hollow hope he held while running to the chaos of the camp; why bring some if you planned to run at the mere sound of its coming? The folly of such an optimistic thought was dawning on him now as he watched over the two before him.

The First Platoon soldier was dead. The medic would soon follow.

Turning away, Azazel made his way back to his soldiers, who still stayed at the clearing of the tent's edge. Practicality told him the truth; no matter what Azazel attempted, the medic would die. There was no stopping it and, perhaps, leaving him to care for someone in his arms was a quiet mercy. Moving him now would just cause the venom to spread faster and, from what Manticore venom was known to do, it would probably cause the man to bleed profusely from mouth, eyes, ears, nose and several other unmentioned areas.

Yes. A Manticore _was_ a true creature of horror.

Raising his hand, he made to gesture to the soldiers, when a straggled voice spoke up behind him.

"_W…wai…_"

Azazel, a little surprised by the sound, turned back to the pair. The medic, teeth grit, laid the dead woman carefully to the earth, arms shaking along with his legs as the man stood up from his position.

His breathing was pained and harsh. Azazel could make out a slight bit of red behind the mask, watching as watery drips fell from the corners. Looking at his face, Azazel first noticed the bloodshot red around the deep violet, and could see similar drops of red making their way down alongside tears. The pain must have been immense; the first step taken caused several cracks to be heard from the Governor General and his followers, the venom now turning corrosive to his innards.

Despite this, the medic took another step, grunting loudly and obviously holding back a much needed scream. Watching him, it must have seemed similar to watching a corpse trying to stand on its own; it was unnatural and almost painful to watch something so distorted move on its own when it clearly should be dead.

It was why necromancy was such a horrid thing to consider amongst magic users; the dead should remain dead (though it seemed Devils skipped the talk about leaving the dead-_dead_).

Azazel caught the man as his fourth step failed to hold his over-burdened body up, not even grimacing as his clothes were dampened by additional blood (after three years, you got used to the stains). Steadying the, admittedly,_resolute_ medic, Azazel wondered what must have been going through his mind as he straightened the shaking and dying man. Gasping for hard held breath, the man took a moment to ready himself for whatever he was planning to do (Azazel wondering quietly if he was aware that he was dying), before reaching to his side and gripping the straps of his backpack. Closing his eyes form the pain, he rolled the pack over his shoulders, holding it in wobbling arms to his chest.

The medic kissed the pack, crying tears mixed with blood, as he moaned out something Azazel couldn't make out.

Hesitantly, he held the bag out, attempting to pass it to his lord, his grip tight so as not to drop it.

"H…here," the medic's voice was hoarse and freely pouring blood from his opening mouth, "t-tak…er…" his body was shaking intensely, "t-TAKE-!"

He fell again. Azazel caught the bag as the body gave out, watching as the medic slipped down to the earth; coughing and groaning as his skin began to take on a purplish hue. He almost looked like he was suffocating (and his strained breathing did not help to argue against that fact) but his throat did not tighten or expand as it should to suggest choked breath. It was just a growing, severe, _overwhelming_ pain.

And yet, the medic endured.

"T-take…take…Ra…" The medic swallowed deeply, Azazel being reminded briefly of a drunk human he once knew who drank a cup of sawdust off a dare (and managed to succeed). This looked just as painful. "…R-Ra…Ray_nare_…t-take _Raynare…_take…t_ssss_…_gahh-haa_…"

The medic's eyes widened; blood covering his irises. He fell to his side, arms and legs botching together in a fetal position. He twitched sporadically, wheezing and writhing in unnatural torture from the inside.

But it didn't last long.

Fifteen seconds of constant struggle and a last, heart-sinking release of breath later and the medic was done.

Azazel watched him. He'd never seen the effects of Manticore venom and understood why something as potent as the 'Netherland Beast' was a reported 'retreat on sight' type monster for several groups. It was heart wrenching – the helplessness alongside the overwhelming self-agony of watching your men die. While often during the war, a man's death wasn't as dramatic as the medic's was, there were still those lingering moments that kept he and his men up at night.

This occurrence would most certainly be one of them.

"_**Bleghh! **__Gah!_ Aahh, haa haa, I'm-I'm o-…_gekh,_ I'm okay!"

Not bothering to turn around his disgruntled soldier (taking a wild guess as to what just happened to his man and personally understanding the feeling himself), Azazel lifted the backpack to eye level, staring at it oddly with a peculiar thought:

Why would a medic, on the last seconds of life, pass on something as insignificant as his medicine bag? There were dozens of others being worked out of the ruined camp by the second towards the southern checkpoint; was he unaware of this? To be certain, supplies weren't in high amounts during war time, even for the Fallen Garrison, but was it really worth one's life to ensure they got back to ally hands?

_Either this was the most dedicated medic in my whole army or…_

Curiosity started to sink further in. Turning to one of his men, who comforted one of his kneeling, groaning peers, Azazel held the backpack to him.

"Hold this," he commanded, the soldier turning and quickly taking the backpack in his hands as Azazel moved his hand over it, unclipping and lifting the flap carefully to peer into the contents within.

It took a moment to adjust his eyes to the shadows of the bag inside. Even with the fire offering light around their position, Azazel and his recruits found it difficult to make out the small something at the bottom. And to be certain, there _was_something. Fallen Angels might have not had the night vision that Devils held, but they weren't blind in the dark, either. And Azazel was certain could make out _something_ at the bottom of the sack-

The something moved.

Azazel's eyes widened. It was such a small, stiff movement that it barely shifted the bag. The Angel holding the backpack, sweating and looking uncomfortable in his position, didn't even seem to notice the move in the bag.

But Azazel did. And with its movement, a bizarre, almost _impossible_ idea came to mind.

_It can't be._

Azazel lifted a hand over the bag and shifted Angelic energy into a dim light over the flap, directing it into the bag.

Azazel's followers watched their lord examine the contents of the backpack. Whatever their peer was holding (with no small amount of anxiety or hesitance), it certainly had the Governor General's attention. Despite the rising concern of being found by monsters or the fires being too much to escape through, the founder of Grigori seemed to place his attention solely on the medic's bag.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, the private holding bag tried to voice his concerns.

"M-m-my lord, perhaps w-we s-sh-should not-"

"_Sshhh!"_ Azazel waved a frantic hand, silencing the man but not averting his eyes from the bag. "_Hold_ _still_." He whispered.

These were obviously the wrong words to say because the private almost lost his grip around the bag. Despite this nervous tension building inside him, he gave a quick nod and renewed his grip; waiting for whatever he was certain was about to happen.

Azazel, who's expression was growing more perplexed by the second, ignored the evident worry of his men and, careful in his approach, lifted both of his arms into the bag, hands reaching out for the something at the bottom.

There was a ruffle inside. This time, the private noticed and looked ready to faint even as Azazel wrapped his hands protectively over something the private could not see through his panic.

Slowly, and with no small amount of hesitance, Azazel lifted his hands from the bag with a growing expression of surprise etching its way to his features.

Then it happened.

Whatever the privates were expecting from the medic's bag – a bomb, a small monster or something equally impressive to be given such importance – it compared little to how ill-prepared they were for their lord to slowly lift from the dark, dirty, blood-stained medic's bag, a smooth, lightly pink-skinned, curly dark-haired newborn _baby_.

* * *

They stared at…it.

'It' being the baby.

They stared at 'it' for quite some time.

'It' was asleep.

Staring at 'it,' they held a similar thought of…_what?_

Perhaps it was the fact that none of the four men had seen a child in _months_ that made the child stand out so proximately to them. Possibly it was because none of them expected to find a child being carried around in a rough, probably uncomfortable medic's bag of all things. Maybe it was even because it was just a _baby_ in a _warzone_ that struck them as the most unexpected and outrageous thing any of the men had seen that entire night (and when you considered the fires, the Griffin attacks, and the dead bodies _everywhere_, that's saying a lot).

The first private, holding the now noticeably light backpack, carefully lowered his possession to get a better look at the…the…_it_ in their lord's hands. His squad mates were no doubt having similar thoughts, going off their awed expressions alone.

And Azazel, above all, was amazed at this new and, from what he felt, _clearly_ Angelic being in his arms.

"You've got to be kidding me…"

* * *

_Abandoned Church, Lower Level, a few minutes ago…_

Naruto Uzumaki held a strict no-kill policy; a policy many who knew the heir of Lucifer were familiar with, though few could honestly say they understood.

The Lucifer household was comprised of notorious beings of power – each having killed, at least, a dozen times over. His parents alone were professionals in the art of war; both holding the ability to flip entire _cities_ should the need arise. They were pacifists by nature, but undoubtedly held the ability to rip a common man apart with a flick of their wrist and weren't afraid to do so if threatened. And by nature, killing when needed to wasn't an idea that was slighted by Devils, unlike humans or some Angels. In fact, it was a major part of their culture: combat, power, blood, it was all political to them.

This is what made the Uzumaki child so peculiar. "Surely, even a human would feel compelled to follow Devil culture if his parents were such renowned powerhouses, right?" That was the common thought on the matter.

What only the truly few (and fewer still in his current life) understood behind the act of Naruto's adherence to preserving life wasn't for some basic sense of self-righteousness, or even entirely morally directed. Naruto, since his previous life, had aimed to be seen, perhaps not as a paragon of virtue, but as a _symbol_ to those who watched him. A symbol to prove that any man, woman, Angel, Devil or anything in between could take a life, but it was the truly strong that showed mercy even to those who may not have deserved it. This idealism stemmed from the belief that his actions could not only affected himself, but on a larger scale, entire nations. That if he were to kill, even if it would stop some dangerous force that threatened to bring all-out war, what Naruto represented would be destroyed. It would send a message that the only way to fight a criminal, a psycho, a murderer or a 'villain' would be to become one yourself. Through that one kill, it would be too easy to justify every other death, "for the good and safety of all."

That was why Naruto held back and refused to land that final blow.

"_**GGGGGGGAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!**__"_

"_W-WUH-WAAAAAA__**GHHHHH**__!"_

"N-n-no_, no! _PLEASE! HAVE MERCY DEVIL-SAMA!_"_

But in the case of Yuuto Kiba, Knight of Rias Gremory, and Koneko Toujou, Rook of Rias Gremory, no such convictions were held. In fact, against the rogue Exorcists, both seemed to be in their element.

Koneko, with her defensive ability to take anything the rogues sent at her and return it tenfold, was unfazed by the conflict around her while silently keeping count on how many rogues she 'put into the ground' (and with her strength, she sometimes did so literally). While her school uniform was somewhat torn and held several bullet-sized holes in different locations of her dress, Koneko otherwise seemed to be the same, monotonous girl, pounding heads into mush with little expression.

Yuuto (or Kiba, as he was more commonly referred to as) held a similar appearance of distress, with school uniform torn and looking beat up from the rogue's attempts at cutting him down, but otherwise appeared to be in his true state-of-mind in the basement of the church. His handsome smirk, in conjunction with his graceful step, skill with a sword and the sheer speed at which he moved made him truly come off as a gallant hero, not unlike those from Arthurian tale.

Indeed, thwarting the efforts of Fallen Angels and (former) church officials was proving to be an enjoyable experience for both Gremory servants.

Pulling his sword out of yet another corpse, Kiba let out a small laugh as he looked around at the collapsed and unmoving dark-robed individuals. "I think that's all of them." He yelled over to his friend, wiping off a bit of sweat from his brow and cleaning his sword with a wave of it to the side.

Koneko looked over to him. "One sec," _**crunch**_, "…okay. We're done." She patted her hands together, brushing off loose dust and blood as she moved to stand beside the swordsman. "You alright?"

Kiba nodded. "And you?"

Koneko paused, looking herself over. "'Could use a change of clothes…"

Kiba smiled. "Well, I can't help you there," he laughed, Koneko's expression turning slightly annoyed to her friend's playful amusement. "Come on. I think it's about time we lend Naruto a hand."

Koneko, knocked from her musings on what remained of her clothes, nodded and ran to the stairs leading back to the ground level, followed shortly by the still entertained Kiba.

While neither the Rook nor the Knight assumed Naruto would require assistance with the Fallen Angel that pursued him after he vacated the basement with the nun – having watched him quickly defeat three 'Crows' ten minutes prior, single-handedly, helped to further assure them of this fact – it did not mean that his victory was assured. The Fallen Angel had performed a ritual of unknown origin that neither of the two Gremory servants were familiar with.

But the effects were instantaneous; Kiba and Koneko easily sensed the sheer energy that practically _poured_ from her. It was all too prevalent, even from their place in the basement. A 'beacon,' as it were. Kiba personally doubted he wouldn't have been able to sense it all the way from Kuoh if he wasn't already at its epicenter.

It was power, pure and simple, and certainly placed the dark-haired girl on a pedestal above her previously defeated peers.

To Kiba, she might have posed a serious threat. Maybe even to Rias, herself.

To Naruto…a nuisance?

Either way, Koneko and Kiba were not the spectating types. So, nearing the top of the stairs, the two readied themselves, making out the voice of the Angel as they crept closer.

"…it back? To the _corpse?!_" There was laughter and a sound like weapons being drawn from sheaths. From the stairway, light gleamed at the top opening, signaling the development of a spear of light to the Devils. "And what if I don't want to give it, huh?! Are you planning to take it from me?!"

Kiba turned to Koneko, who nodded in return, correcting the feel of her gloves and looking steely at where the voice came from. Kiba, in return, slowly slid his sword from its sheath and hardened his expression towards the top of the stairs.

They would have leapt then; ready to give backup to their friend. But then a slim hand found its way onto both of their shoulders, directing their attention away from the coming conflict.

Akeno smiled to them. Lifting a solitary finger to her lips, she moved to the top of the stairs, still hidden from view, and waited for the show to begin.

* * *

_Outside The Abandoned Church, Ground Level, a few minutes ago…_

"You didn't deserve to be used or abused or _hated_ because of what was inside of you…"

From her downed and aching position, leaning on the outside wall of the church, Mittelt managed to hear the voices inside the church before she even saw who it belonged to. Though her body still hurt and pulling herself up from her hunched position to manage a glance through the cracks in the church's doorway took no small effort on her part. The blond _hunk_ really did a number on her, it seemed.

Before even being able to discern what was being said, Mittelt recognized one of the tones from her previous conversation. The cold, hard tone of 'Naruto' was easily recognized amidst the quiet area around her, though it didn't sound nearly as demanding or frustrated as she remembered it being during their 'one-on-one' interrogation earlier. In fact, as she listened further to his words, he almost seemed kind.

"…it is because of it that I got to meet so many wonderful people…"

Though the second voice was weak and took her a moment to realize it was the nun, Mittelt's surprise lied with the fact that the blond managed to get her out of the basement in the first place. This surprise largely forced her to forget to listen into whatever, she was sure, pointless drabble 'Asia' gave her blond opponent on her 'oh-so-sad' life.

In honesty, she cared little for Asia or her importance for being a Sacred Gear holder. Whether the ritual happened or not was not her concern. Whether a war broke out was not something she overly desired, but could not find herself overly against it, either. She skipped the last two World Wars and did not participate in the Great War; being one of the last Angels born from her Father. She never experienced true battle before, which resulted in her neither knowing what it felt like nor understanding if she desired to see such a heavy-casualty occurrence.

She saw no practicality around forcing such an issue of two sides to occur, but this was also her reason for going rogue in the first place.

Mittelt was a strange Fallen. In the centuries that followed her falling, she held no official classification amongst the Fallen ranks. She never classified herself under a single branch, nor saw herself falling to a single sin more than another.

By her peers, she was dubbed as 'Mittelt-of-All-Sin.'

Despite her distaste to the name, it did hold some truth. She had desires and sin in her, but not in a quantity that was more prevalent then another. She did not desire food in large quantities, nor large amounts of money. She was not lazy (and preferred great amounts of activity) or overly envious of those around her. She felt pride in herself, but maybe not to the amount that would place her above others.

So that left lust and wrath.

_I enjoy another's 'company' but have never felt a strong 'desire' like some of the Lustful have mentioned. _She remembered musing to herself. _I've never thought of a boy (or girl) like that. Flirting, sure, and I can appreciate a fine-looking 'prime steak' now and then, but lust? Phht, yeah right…hmm…so, maybe I'm Wrathful? What's wrath even like?_

Mittelt did enjoy a good challenge of strength or skill. She liked the thrill that came with it; one-on-one being her favorite sort of competition. But admittedly, she never fought someone worthy of her attention before.

While by no means was she the strongest of Fallen Angels, she certainly wasn't a slouch. She challenged others before but remained wanting for someone beyond her abilities. She was deemed too young to challenge those of ages several millennia above her, and those a thousand years around her own left her disappointed. So her desire to have her ass handed to her thoroughly was not something completely unprovoked.

She almost felt like _praying_ for such a moment her in life, but never felt the courage to ask for such a daring proposal, especially from a Father she forsook for selfish reasons.

Imagine her surprise when a 'Father Galilei' walked up to her one evening, offering to fulfill her wish…

So yes. This entire rogue action was deigned to find herself a strong foe. To make her feel some small miniscule amount of life she thought the challenge of - as Dohnaseek would put it - 'fisticuffs' would bring her. To give her pain and ache and soreness that would make her feel the thrill of life that humans felt every day. The way the _blond_ made her feel.

She longed for this – _craved it_ – and this 'Naruto' gave it to her.

Thoughts of the last half-an-hour excited her. The blond's tone, his threats, the way he held her wing – she wanted more. _So_ much more. And even when thrown aside so her challenger could place his interest on something of a more immediate importance, at least to himself, she felt a building desire grow over her conscious understanding of just how much pain he put her through.

Mittelt was sure she would be blushing a bright shade of pink had it not been for the strain of even cocking her head to look through the doorway.

"…right of _strength_. I had the power to take what I wanted and was _encouraged_ into doing so!"

Speaking of which, a new voice was making her appearance known to the kneeling blond. Raynare, looking lithe in her dark leather outfit and having a shit-eating grin all over her face, was standing around like a high-class stripper and appeared to be mocking the, apparently, now-dead nun-girl. Mittelt, even without needing to, could _feel_ the new energy from the Sacred Gear now stuck within her – boosting her powers to new levels that, though she was hard-pressed to admit, _trumped_ her own skill and ability.

Mittelt bit her bottom lip._ Wow. Missing on some good stuff here. Internal monologues for later._ "But, _damn_, what I wouldn't give for a bowl of popcorn …"

The small, vocal announcement that things were getting interesting was meant to be for her benefit only.

Imagine the Fallen's surprise when a feminine, high-class toned voice answered her back.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't help you with _that_."

Mittelt's expression turned surprised, turning her head quickly to her side to glance up to a pair of calm, teal-colored eyes.

"But I _can_ promise you that this will be entertaining…"

* * *

_Present…_

Raynare caught the shift the in the boy's appearance almost instantly. His eyes were the most notable change – a shift in hue and shape to appear reddish and slit, not unlike a cat – while his hair seemed to almost thicken and grow longer at the same time. His hands clenched into fists, shaking slightly with built-up aggression, with Raynare's eyes staring in almost disbelief as the nails grew and sharpened to knife-sharp points. Even the strange birthmarks on his cheeks – things Raynare discounted as unimportant after associating and studying the blond – seemed to thicken and deepen in ridging; pronouncing their appearance and strengthening the animalistic feeling the blond gave off.

The air around the church's innards shifted; dust and tiny pieces of wood began to move from the blond's position and out in random directions of the church. The rhythm of their movement increased by the second until the area around Naruto was swarming with strong winds brushing everything that wasn't nailed down away from his position. Dust, splinters of wood, cobwebs – even the structure of the abandoned church seemed threatened to collapse by the sheer pressure of the wind that vacated away from the blond.

And all the while, Naruto never moved so much as a _step_ towards the Fallen Angel.

Watching this all happen, Raynare wondered, as a stray thought, how she must have looked then to the changed blond. Her eyes were wide and fixated on the silent transformation, not bothering to hide her astonishment as she felt the air grow heavy with a strong, new energy. It overwhelmed the power she'd constantly released since implanting the Sacred Gear and slowly took the area over with its presence. She couldn't recognize what sort of power it was – though clearly it was neither Angelic nor Demonic and certainly not magical in appearance or feeling – and that unnerved her even more.

She wondered if Naruto, behind his stern expression, was silently amused by the terror she was inflicted with.

_What is going on here?! _Raynare mentally asked-screamed. _How is he doing this? He's only human – how is this even – it isn't –!_ She tried to come up with words to describe what was happening – a trick, a manipulation of wind, something simple and explainable for a human to do. Logic helped the mind ease itself to an understanding of its surroundings, but now the opposite seemed to be true in the case of this new horror before her.

Logic was telling her to run; to remember the memory of the day in the park.

To remember the fight. The flight. The punches and the falling and-

The fear. The fear was there-always there.

The fear of falling. The fear of the blond. The fear of _Naruto Uzumaki._

To remember all that and _run._

…

…

…_No…_

Raynare shook her head.

_No, I won't do it._

Her body started to tremble.

The sheer thought of last Sunday left her with a gnawing in her stomach, wanting her to back away and run from the now red-eyed blond before her.

_No. No, no. No no no -_

The remembrance of her near death left her pride _shattered_ and her sense of worth being turned into dust to be swept by the coming breeze.

She was worthless again. The _freeloader_ amongst _freeloaders_.

Raynare the Unwanted.

_\- no no no no NO NO NO NO NO __**NO NO NO!**_

* * *

_Winter Solstice, Gates of Heaven, December 20, 1918…_

The Gates of Heaven were _monstrosities_ of architecture, design and defensive workmanship.

The two doors (if they could be called as much) stood several thousand meters high; made with white Cryperion stone and lined with glistening diamond-laced ridges. Each door channeled several hundred magical restoration spells over every inch of its making, alongside tens-of-_thousands_ of additional, classified-over-protective magic that gave it such a strong feeling of mysticism and energy that even the most devout believer of science and anti-magic could not deny its powerful presence. They stood resilient and imposing with the most complex system of self-protective measures imagined that even a dozen human hydrogen bombs – _combined_ – world not leave so much as a _dent_ on it. Since their construction, not a single entity of any religion, mythology, Parthenon or so on, was capable of breaching the holiest of kingdoms without direct permission from the Lords of the Golden City.

In other words, no un-invited guest ever made it past the front door…

Azazel, who on that day mid-December, stood just outside the gleaming light of Heaven and its impenetrable walls. He was no fool to this understanding that the Gates were handcrafted perfection. Having lived behind the 'Pearly Gates' for most of his life, the Fallen General was quite familiar with their impenetrable nature. Even during the Great War, when he considered challenging the might of Heaven itself and was quite the warmonger, Grigori's founder knew that the only way to defeat the Holy Sanctuary was to force its gates open wide for his army to enter. Subterfuge would be required. But because the Gates had not opened in over three millennia, sneaking into Heaven was an option that seemed more and more a dreamer's dream as time went on.

But to the matter at hand: why was Azazel, Lord of Fallen, founder and Governor General of the Grigori, standing before Heaven's Gates?

During the Great War, such an action would have seen him skewered and flayed like a well-cooked ham. His presence was unaccepted by those of pure-white wings; his pure-black was an affront to all that Heaven stood for. The two divisions of Angels during the Great War had shown neither acceptance nor mercy to either side, over the basis that they would be shown none in return.

But this was not the time of the Great War. Rather, at present, this was the time of what was commonly referred to as 'The Long Ceasefire.' A time where, Azazel realized, a bit of 'leeway' could be made for someone of his significant position.

He'd never imagined standing before Heaven again (at least without an army behind him). He'd never imagined being so close to his former home and not being struck down by a thousand different variations of light-manipulated weaponry. Before today, he'd considered a _hundred_ different scenarios on how this meeting might have ended (many of which ended with his demise) but he still held fast with his decision to stand before the Gates and speak his request, even against overwhelming opposition from friends and councilors alike.

After all, who could have more leeway on this most important matter then the Lord of Fallen himself?

And now, dressed in formal, dark-leathered Angelic-based attire, Azazel waited quietly, rocking the bundle of blankets in his arms.

The child born on the war-torn European soil seemed rather content to just sleep the day away in her foster parent's arms. The slowly growing tuft of black hair waved in the small, freshly blowing wind; her face scrunching over the cool breeze for a moment before relaxing again to the rhythmic movements of Azazel's arms.

She was a lazy baby. Azazel would comment as much several times over the months he'd seen her (when he wasn't off trying to win a war). He'd left her with cadets or some other form of caretaker during the last six months of life that she'd been 'placed' under his care. For the last five months World War One officially took place in, Azazel held an infrequent but still notable consideration for the child. Whenever there wasn't the threat of Gargoyles or Cyclopes on the horizon, he would, as if only in passing consideration, ask how the 'newest member of the Grigori' was coming along. He often had his attention centered around matters of a grander scale than just if the child was being fed properly or causing trouble for a medic or camp assistant, but otherwise, he did not forget that she was alive.

That she was important. That she was, only by pure guess on her name from what he and his three privates heard the night they found her, a true 'Daughter of War.'

She was Raynare.

* * *

Azazel continued to rock the child quietly for some time, silently hoping he could keep her asleep for as long as he was able too, silently considering what words he would need to say next just as the corner of his eye caught sight of a strange shift of light in direction of the holy city.

Turning his head away from the slumbering child in his arms, Azazel watched as a white shine of majestic light shot around the glimmering stone Gates. The light glistened off the diamond-laced gateway and sparkled like the sun on water (but a hundred-times more stunning).

It was the signal to begin.

With child in hand and back poised like the leader of one of the Three Great Factions of the Biblical Faith, Azazel turned towards the Gates, head held high, and took a couple steps forward to acknowledge the beckoning.

His head turned skyward, Azazel watching as the clouds beside the Gates, white and perfect in shape, slowly seemed to glow brighter and brighter and brighter as the seconds went on. His eyes narrowed slightly, making out the rough shape of three spherical shapes make their way past the clouds and quickly descend down towards where Azazel stood, patiently, with child in hand.

The orbs were rather simple in appearance. Each was a shining gold which illuminated a small area without causing a level of blindness to those viewing their simple yet obvious importance. They were perfectly symmetrical in shape and floated smoothly down from the clouds above to hover before the Lord of Fallen.

These three lights were the Watchers of the Gates: the deciders of who entered through the Gates of Heaven. Aside from the Seraphs, these three were the top Angels in the hierarchy of Heaven.

Azazel, acknowledging their place in Heaven and their importance to the matter at hand, offered the glowing spheres a small bow for what he could manage with the child still resting in his arms.

"My Lord Watchers!" The Fallen Angel spoke, voice loud and respectful as if he were announcing the presence of a king. "It has been some time. I see you all look…very much the same!" He managed, holding back a laugh, "How have the years been to you all? How had Heaven fared-"

**Silence your pleasantries, Forsaken One.**

_Yes, do dispense with the charade of enjoying our presence._

We are no happier to see you as you are to see us, we are sure.

Azazel didn't even appear to be taken aback by their claim. It was true, after all, but it did make it easier to move forward with the meeting.

"Right, let's skip the foreplay and get down to business then, shall we?" Lord Azazel grinned, moving up from his bow. "Your messenger delivered my proposal, I presume? I believe it had all required details you would have desired, correct?"

**It did.**

_We were pleased._

Even a Fallen might still have decorum to produce a proper message, it seems.

Azazel didn't rise to the bait, instead shifting the slightly rousing child carefully. "I appreciate you taking the time to consider my request and seeing me on such notice. I believe this matter can be settled with favorable circumstances that may benefit both our races for centuries to come." He smiled his bachelor smile. "Perhaps, one day, we might even see the reunification of the Angelic order under one banner again-"

**Do not presume anything, Fallen One; we have not accepted your proposal yet.**

_Such a matter must be carefully considered, special circumstance that it is._

It has worth, we admit, but does it have enough, we wonder.

Azazel's smile did not waver, though internally he felt worse about this meeting as the Watchers spoke. "Surely, you do not suggest forbidding the acceptance of a _child_, do you?"

**We do suggest, Black One.**

_A child born of two Fallen – Angels who forsook the Holy Father – would be a monstrosity of such disgrace that I dare not look upon it in your arms._

To be taken in and raised, despite this heritage, is something to be considered harshly.

Azazel looked at the three golden orbs with some astonishment and confusion. "Monstrosity?" He voiced, raising Raynare's blankets so that they might look upon her face. "_Monstrosity_? This is a _child_, you foolish _gatekeepers!_ She was born from the _love_ between two _Angels_-_!_"

**Of lust, you mean.**

_A sin your race is quite proud of, I know._

But we do not accept it or her.

"…_Do not accept?_" He voiced out, more for his own sake then there's, almost unable to trust his own ears at that moment. Shock stood behind Azazel's face, with slowly creasing anger covering his features as this debacle of a meeting continued.

_This is why I wanted to consult with Michael on this matter._ Azazel thought with increasing frustration. _At lease he wasn't as pig-headed as some others in Heaven, if I recall._ And the next few seconds all but proved it further with the Watchers' declaration.

**We, the Watchers of the Gates, have weighed your proposal and measured the degree of your desire.**

_But we have found it wanting, Azazel of the Fallen._

Raynare, daughter of Fallen, will not hold station in Heaven.

* * *

That final decree seemed to cause a freeze in the vibrancy around them.

The comforting breeze that flowed throughout Heaven did not seem to move through Azazel's hair, nor did Raynare's silent shifting immediately receive her lord's attention. The spheres of light and the Gates of Heaven seemed to dull in intensive glow, as if some of their impressiveness were sucked from them for that brief moment. The sounds of work could even be heard from the holy city where the Lord of Fallen stood, which made the situation all the more tense.

Everything seemed…_off_ for that briefest of moments after the verdict was passed. As if the universe itself did not agree with that decision.

Azazel did not respond immediately. Instead, he just stared at them; the three, floating marbles. Each one was carefully looked over, with a new expression replacing the previous frustration and annoyance. Those two expressions, of which, he slowly grew and held throughout their political drabble about how they were 'so-superior-then-he' died out with their final chosen choice.

Azazel felt only one thing now: confusion.

"_What,"_ he managed to breath out, "do you _mean_ you _won't_ take her?"

**It is as we said.**

_We will not accept her._

The Gates of Heaven will not open to her.

Azazel pursed his lips. "_Why?_"

**She is Fallen.**

_The Fallen understand the cost of giving into their personal desires._

Desires which prevent them being allowed access into Heaven.

Azazel rolled his eyes, starting to pace impatiently in a vain attempt to keep his negative feelings towards the Watchers in check. "But she is _innocent!_" He told them. "She doesn't even have her first feathers, damn it! She has committed no sin!"

**She exists.**

_Her parent's sin shall be hers._

It had been decided.

Azazel couldn't believe how 'aristocrat' the Watchers were. _'Sins of the father,' huh? _"Then UN-decide it!"

**We cannot.**

_We shall not._

We will not.

Azazel held back an annoyed groan. The talking marbles, each with their one sentence talking and different sounding tones were starting to be _unbearable_.

**It is Father's word.**

_And Father's word is law._

This is known.

Of course it was known. He was an Angel and apparently God's rule was absolute.

Dad's word, Dad's word, Dad's word. Always with Dad's word.

Everything about Angel's and their decision making process was based off 'Dad's Rule.' Why would that change anytime soon?

Azazel shook his head, a crooked smile finding its way to his lips, before he pointed a finger at the middle Watcher and his golden sphere.

_Well you know what I have to say to that?_

"SCREW DAD!"

…

…

…

_Silence from the Watchers. How about that. First time they've been talked down to in millennia, I bet. _"Screw Dad and screw His law!" Raynare was starting to stir aggressively in his arms now. "This is a moment of _breakthrough_for our two races! Don't you get it? If you accept this child, you are opening up the possibility for both our races to unite once more!" The Watchers' glowing spheres started to dull in color. "But instead, you would cast aside this chance to reunite Heaven with its Fallen kin, under a new, White-and-Black feathered alliance, for the sake of upholding hundred-thousand year old traditions?!" Azazel grit his teeth. "Dad would _never_ accept this! He would _never_forsake a child who asked for kindness and a home! You Angels, who call yourself so pious and pure, would deny this child a chance for a life inside Heaven because of a mistake that's not her own?! How could you do this without any kindness!

"Did Dad really screw up this bad in our making? Did he do _wrong_ in making us so _stupidly_ single-minded-?!"

_**SILENCE!**_

Azazel threw his hand over the child, protecting the now crying Raynare as a sharp blow of air swept over the fields of Heaven. The sky turned a grayish tinge, so unlike the previous clear blue before, and the Gates of Heaven looked almost threateningly dark behind the Watchers and their now sharply glowing spheres of golden light. The light itself almost seemed to be swirling angrily, as if wanting to lunge at Azazel and the child in his arms.

Needless to say, Azazel, and even little Raynare, could sense the threat of the Watchers.

_**DO NOT DARE SPEAK OF OUR FATHER, LORD OF FALLEN! YOU LOST ALL VOICE WHEN YOU FORSOOK YOURSELF FOR THE HUMAN! AND NOW YOU DARE BESMIRCH NOT ONLY OUR WORD, OUR LAW, BUT OUR FATHER, AS WELL?!**_

_**BEGONE! BEGONE NOW AND DO NOT SEEK THE GATES AGAIN, LEST YOU BE STRUCK DOWN AS AN EXAMPLE TO ALL WHO QUESTION FATHER'S LAW!**_

_**THE LAW IS ABSOLUTE! AS IT HAS BEEN AND SHALL ALWAYS BE!**_

The Watchers' spheres glowed brightly, laminating the area around them in fine gold, before each shot up to the sky above, quickly being lost to Azazel's eyes as they crept behind the clouds.

The area around the Gates returned to the peaceful serenity it held before the Watchers burst of fury, quickly calming the area in Heaven's brilliant shine.

Azazel cared little, though. His mind still lingered about the absolute denial of his simple request. A request he hoped would bring a new golden age of idealism and thought to the Angels, beyond what their father said was absolute.

He hoped too much, it seemed.

Holding the crying child in his arms, Azazel spoke sweetly to it, trying to settle down what he'd hoped to use as a starting point to a much better, open Angelic society. Using her in his scheme to open Heaven up to the possibility of accepting the Fallen back into their ranks might have seemed cruel, but in truth, what he hoped to offer her would have been so much more, he was sure, then any Fallen parent (or in his case, guardian) could offer their child.

She would have been protected, nurtured and happy. Of that he was certain.

Now, holding this child sweetly in his arms, not letting such torrent thoughts boggle his mind on how he would explain this occurrence to the order. Instead, as he tried to calm the 'Daughter of War,' Azazel wondered if Baraqiel had any idea what to feed this thing…

* * *

_Present…_

Her name was Raynare – the Fallen Angel. She was chosen to be the one to bring the Fallen Angels to new heights of glory and salvation in a world that would only see them grovel in the mud. She was to stand beside Lord Azazel, as an equal, and to earn the respect of those around her. She would be the one to bring a golden age to the Fallen and be acknowledged by all.

She would _not_ be put down by this simpleton!

"_I…hate…you…!_" She cried, gritting her teeth as she pulled her arms back and threw them forward, watching the spears twist out of her arms and towards her opponent's red, _unnatural_ eyes. "I HATE YOU!"

Seeming to ignore the constant wind pressure pouring out from around Naruto's person, the spears traveled towards Naruto's hard expression; narrowing in on one another to almost seem like a single spear to the un-wavered son of Lucifer.

Naruto watched the light projectiles without a show of concern, never letting his eyes leave the violet pair of his opponent. He could read her movements easily; the fear and rage were all too prevalently sensed by him. They were rolling off her in such large amounts it would have taken a blind-deaf man to not notice.

As it stood, her negativity made it easier to read her moves, and with a small twist of his neck, the twin spears swept past his head and through the wall behind without so much as grazing his shirt's collar.

This entire instance happened in the span of a _second_. The distance between the two was so short, dodging should have been impossible for her blond haired opponent. The speed at which the spears moved was that of a weightless, un-resisted force of power, _impossible_ to completely dodge at such low distances in-between.

That was Raynare's belief.

It was proven false, much to her now swiftly increasing _fury_.

"_Gahhh…_" Raynare growled, hand twitching into curled fists as Naruto corrected his neck, looking as if he hadn't moved at all. That cool, unintimidated look made her eye twitch. "You…_you_…!" Her hands glowed brightly, twisting energy forming another pair of spears. "DON'T YOU MOCK ME!"

She gave one a toss, followed by another quick to follow. Then twisted the energy for another spear and tossed. Then grew another spear. Then another. Then another. And another after that. She continued to twist and form spears of light from her immense reserves, throwing them at the unperturbed boy with little need to wait.

Naruto dodged. And dodged. And dodged again, repeating this process with each spear missing without so much as grazing his school uniform. Though showing a quick reflex against the incoming attacks that Raynare brought, the blond neither seemed wavered from the effort or a loss of energy from his astonishingly quick movements that certainly weren't human-level.

Raynare was not amused by her lack of success. "DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!" She screamed with teeth grit and shouts growing louder to be heard over the low vibrating sounds of her tossed spears. Each throw made was now aimed at Naruto's body and torso, aiming towards his heart, but for each to be easily avoided without much effort (he didn't seem to find the need to avoid the spears more than he needed to) and passing outside the church's foundation through the several holes formed by her light-based weapons. "JUST DIE ALREADY!"

This continued game of throw-and-miss went on for about forty spears, Raynare using an excessive amount of the prevalent energy within herself to attack her blond assailant.

She stopped then, a small part of her still battle-competent mind overthrowing her ruthlessness, catching her breath after realizing the fruitlessness of her effort and allowing her arms to lie at her sides.

Her Angelic energy might have been immense, but her physical stamina was still limited and un-increased by her recent upgrade. It required mental and physical efforts to pull such large quantities of energy together, despite the readily available amount inside of her. And keeping the energy inside herself required some level of focus and strength the wasteful tosses did not help her with.

But she ignored the consequences and decided to openly _growl_ at the boy.

"_Why?_" She hissed between deep breaths, feeling small drops of sweat on her brown. "Why can't I _HIT YOU?!_"

She waited, expecting a response from the usually talkative blond.

She hoped he would talk; it would be as if he were acknowledging her efforts and not as if she were yelling into thin air. To insinuate that her assault wasn't in vain and that she posed at least some threat.

But he was quiet. Uncharacteristically quiet. In fact, if not for his hard stare to her tiring form, she would have assumed he was _uninterested_ in her. Like a chore that needed doing but could have not cared less about – _that_ was what Raynare read from those ruby-colored eyes.

Even to her opponent, she was unworthy.

"_SAY SOMETHING!_"

He didn't.

Instead, shifting his weight forward, Naruto walked towards the Angel.

* * *

_Underworld, October 24, 1929…_

Azazel was a man of simple tastes. He enjoyed his wine, the architectural achievements of races not his own, a pleasant views of nature – oh, and his collection. He couldn't forget that.

And as it so happened, he was managing to appreciate all four of these delicacies at that very moment. He held a finely crafted silver goblet in one hand, filled near to the top with a reddish elixir. The castle he currently held residence in, at least till next spring, was constructed by a most comely group of gnomish designers. The comfortable chair, which he occupied atop a courtyard just outside the castle's front doors, overlooked an absolutely _stunning_ view of the Underworld's snow-covered mountains.

And, with the exception of about thirty percent of the mountain-side, they all belonged to his collection of fine antiquities. A collection, of which, he held great pride for and wished to continually increase so long as there was air within his lungs.

Again, a man of simple tastes.

Covered in several layers of warm blanketing, Azazel always marveled on how quickly the northern parts of the Underworld's weather could change as he sipped on his warm drink. Yesterday was warm and temperate, today was freezing with a snowstorm that covered the castle overnight. Though such changes in temperature weren't unusual for this part of the Underworld (the northern providences being a mass hysteria of magical energies that disrupted mother nature's usual weathering patterns for reasons beyond Azazel's understanding), it was a surprise for the occupants to wake up to a snow-covered citadel.

A pleasant surprise, though. Less outdoor work to be done by the castle's staff; most preferred the comfortable warmth of the estate.

But Azazel was much too cramped for the indoors. His attention was often kept on matters of the Grigori; standing over a table of financial reports here, a discussion about new home establishments on different nations there, it was more work than a man could deal with without break. And while finding brief reprieves through 'revitalization' and 'appreciating nature's majesty' were just some of his excuses for stepping away from his study, his most prominent 'excuse' was actually stomping through the snow in a huff.

Face red, hands clenched, black hair tied in a stylish knot and wearing clothes not appropriate for the cold weather – the young Fallen ward was clearly in a rare mood that suggested her lessons were not going as well as she hoped. _Again_.

"…stupid Mikael…stupid Benson…stupid…stupid…_aggh!_" Raynare grumbled, kicking up snow with each step and angrily pouting as it sunk through her socks to wet her feet. She moved to the edge of the estate's large balcony and plopped her head down dejectedly to its stone railing. "Stupid stupid stupid…"

Azazel smiled. Whether she noticed her guardian was off to her side, watching her with some amusement or not, it didn't stop him from stepping up from his chair, shedding the blankets off his person and walking over to the child.

"You know," Grigori's leader spoke up, catching Raynare's attention from her silent grumbles, "I seem to recall a certain someone having trouble with their flying the first time they tried and grumbled all afternoon about it." He said placidly/jokingly, the young Fallen huffing as she rolled her eyes at her guardian's attempt at mulling her bad mood.

"Flying was easier than this," Raynare's quipped back. "Heck, flying was a _picnic_. But this," she lifted her hand, small pieces of condensed light forming around her hand and seemed to be attempting to form something solid but _bounced_ off one another, "_this_ is _so_ much worse." She crossed her arms, shaking her head as the light from her palm dispersed. "Mikael says I'm _distracted._ Benson tells me I need to _focus_ on the light – to _believe_ I am _light_. Well, you know what?" Bringing her leg back, she kicked the snow again. "_What do you think I've been trying to do!_"

Azazel watched from the side, sympathizing with her frustration. In Heaven, all Angels received the best training and tutors imaginable. His Father ensured that each Angel was capable in whatever they sought to do to fulfill the will of Heaven. Mikael and Benson, highly capable though they were, were not given the same tools provided readily by Heaven to treat and educate young Angels. They were brilliant, true, but could only work so much and this was undoubtedly the first child of a Fallen pair that they had to work with.

For them, Raynare was an unprecedented challenge they weren't entirely prepared for.

"How do you even _become_ light?! What does light even _feel_ like?!" She kept kicking the snow, huffing and yelling as she vented her pent up aggression on her lack of ability to manipulate light into solid-based object. "It's stupid, dad! Stupid stupid stupid!"

Bemused, Azazel let her speak, silently wondering what happened to that lazy baby who took long naps and was quiet as a lamb? "How stupid is it?"

"_So_ stupid."

"Hmm. Really stupid?

"Really, _really_ stupid!"

"Really, really, _really_ stupid?"

Raynare looked ready to respond and play off Azazel's slightly joking responses, but the eleven year old caught herself and looked frustratingly towards him. "You're making fun of me, aren't you?"

Azazel shrugged. "Maybe." He said with a flippant tone, watching her face go deeper red as she didn't feel a lick of sympathy from her guardian. Usually, he was the caring father; offering comfort and empathy whenever she had a moment of distress (because frankly, growing up sucked).

Now he was acting _mean_ and _joking_ and she didn't like it!

Looking at the snow, now thoroughly brushed around by Raynare's kicks, Azazel had an idea. "But you know what I think," he thought aloud, turning away from the girl to lean over the railing towards the mountains. "I think you might just need a little break."

With arms still crossed, Raynare shook her head indignantly. "I'll just be angrier if I don't get this _now_."

_Girl certainly has pride._ Azazel thought, acknowledging that the girl believed she should be a naturally talented Fallen under his guidance and tutelage. But natural talent was _so_ boring. No challenge, no feeling of hard work proven – talent was so cliché and _dull_.

He was happy with Raynare's lack of immediate success in all things Angelic. She had time to succeed; not everything needed to be exceptional so early in her life.

_What she needs,_ Azazel thought, turning to look over Raynare's shoulder with a growing smile, _is to appreciate her youth just a little bit more._

"Are you _sure_ you don't want to take a break?" Azazel asked as innocently as he could, which had the opposite effect he desired and actually made the Fallen youth appear suspicious to his sudden tone change.

Cautiously, Raynare shook her head. "No. I can't stop. I'm going to go back and show them I can do this-"

_Poof!_

"OW!" Raynare screamed. "Who threw-" she stuttered, turning around to look for where the projectile –a _snowball_, of all things – came from. Her head twisted and turned around the balcony, searching for her 'snowball-attacker' and brushing loose snow from her hair.

_Where did that…where did it…who…?_

Her face was red still, but now from slowly growing embarrassment. No one was there. No one. So unless there was a ghost she just couldn't see, Raynare was sure the only people on the balcony was herself and -

She heard a chuckle.

Raynare paused, head stopped in its turning for a missing snowballer and slowly twisted around to look back at the quiet, seemingly uninterested in what was going on Azazel. The Lord of Fallen was staring to the mountains, lips pursed and looking like he was trying to hold back a _smile_.

Raynare's eyes widened. "Did you just-was that _you_?" She was answered by a twitch on the man's lips. A smooth, mischievous smirk crossed Azazel's face, turning his eyes to his ward as he purposely failed to hold back his guilt any longer.

From his side, just out of view from Raynare's eyes, a silvery-white snowball lifted into the air, untouched by anyone's hands as it hovered without issue against gravity, making itself known to her.

Raynare stared at him then to the floating snow, wide eyed that her adopted father would do such a childish thing…

...for about three seconds, before a matching, equally _devious_ look spread across her face from ear to ear.

Quickly, Raynare fell to her knees, scooped up a wad of snow, pounded it together and –

* * *

"Hahaha! I got you! I beat you!" The young Fallen laughed, cheering for her 'victory' against Azazel in the battle of snowballs and forts.

Raynare lay comfortably on her back to the cold earth, a small mound of snow pushed aside from her form as she made rough snow angels (the irony being lost to the child) and looking out of breath from the skirmish of snowballs that just occurred. Azazel, smiling and lying similarly to his ward on the snow-covered balcony, chuckled as he heard the cheers.

"Hmm…_nah_, I'm thinking it was a tie."

"What? No way, I got you _so_ much more then you got me!"

"Maybe, but I'm a bigger target. By that logic, you had the advantage. And I still hit you, despite how small you are. That should be, like, _double_ the points, right?"

"What?! No way, dad, that's not fair! I totally won! I totally…"

There was a lengthy explanation following, several bizarre declarations as to why Raynare was undoubtedly the champion in the 'Snow War' of 1929. All the while, Azazel just cocked his head and watched as his little girl went into animated detail about how this and that happened on 'the fields of battle' and that was the reason why she got the advantage here or there or whenever. Azazel didn't much understand her tactical understanding of why having more snow on her fort gave her more points than his did but it wasn't really the point of the matter.

She was relaxed now. And happy – that was what was important.

_Grrrr…_

Raynare stopped in her talk, blinking as she turned her eyes down to her stomach. Smiling brightly, she let out a sheepish laugh. "I'm hungry."

Azazel barked a laugh. "Lunch?"

"Lunch!" Raynare jumped up, carefully stepping out of her 'Angel's snow angel' on the snowfield and ran towards the entrance of the castle, yelling excitedly about hot chocolate, cookies, sandwiches and any assortment of other fine foods she had no quarrels eating (she was eleven and skinny – why would she care about what she ate).

Stretching out stiff limbs and figuring he should go grab some warm blankets for the surely snow-soaked child to warm herself up, Azazel made towards the insides of his castle, feeling a level of accomplishment for the day –

Only to be abruptly stopped when a green colored, floating sphere appeared, hovering closely to Azazel's head and seeming rather urgent in its attempts at getting his attention.

Surprised but not completely unfamiliar with the orb's sudden appearances, Azazel calmly gripped it by his fingers and placed it to his ear. "Azazel here…ah, Tamiel! Good to hear from…uh-huh…huh? Wait, wait! Slow down, what's wrong with the market?"

* * *

_Washington, D.C., United States, Mid 1932…_

Raynare never stepped on soil that wasn't the Underword. She never knew a sky that wasn't violet, or what a human looked like, or how limiting it was to be tethered to the earth and forbidden to fly in the city. And for that matter, she'd never seen a city so filled with so many landmarks and was curious of the fashion trends humans seemed to keep.

Truthfully, she was forced to wear something that blended with her 'fellow humans' and did not stand out amongst the largely active city of, what she figured was, professionally dressed men and women. Her dress was a tight, gray piece of fabric, with stripes and a few polka dots that, even with being unfamiliar with human trends of fashion, could guess as much that this outfit _sucked_.

_Seriously? Gray and polka dots? Who would wear this? Who would make this and think it would sell?!_ If she wasn't aware of just how important today was, she would have assumed Azazel was playing some cruel jest to her person. It wouldn't have been entirely out of his character.

The walk she was forced to endure towards the Grigori-Washington Headquarters was dreadfully dull. While being guided by her father's men so that she could 'appreciate' one of the most prominent cities in the world, Raynare forced herself to hold back grumbles and bored sighs as they continued to their destination. It would not do well, professionally or publicly, for the ward of Lord Azazel to appear uninterested or scathing. She had to remain positive, proper and the apple of his eye.

Any less would be unacceptable.

This sense of needed perfection was what made today all the more important. For today, the lord of the Grigori was allowing her to actively view a meeting of the organizations most important members to discuss a matter of, as she was made to understand, _nation-wide significance._ Though she was unsure of just what the meeting was to be involved with, and was semi-certain her father was not pulling her strings just to get her out of the Underworld for a time, these facts did not lessen the absolute interest she held in finally meeting some of the highest members of their order and not hearing about them from one of Baraqiel's long, unnecessarily-detailed, sleep-inducing tales.

_Seriously! I don't need to know what kind of coffee Shemhazai had the day he fought a dragon! Or how long Remiel took in the bathroom to 'prepare' for his first fight with Devils – those are details I could have lived without!_

And yet, despite her (mental) protests, she continued to listen. She paid attention and asked questions when her father's head of security had a moment's break to catch his breath between tales or epics. No one, not even Azazel, took the time to narrate about the days of battle and conflict of the Fallen Legion. But Baraqiel loved to tell his tales and felt some feelings of personal pride in Raynare's development. Even going so far as to take over her recent combat training himself, if only to show off, just how impressive the ability of an old lord of Grigori truly was.

Mikael and Benson's training seemed like a distant, pleasant memory by comparison...

Through it all, though, it was _kind of_ interesting to hear a few of the stories: 'The Corrupt Warlock of the Dusk Market,' 'Penemue and the Cave Beast,' or 'Gabriel's Journey through the Infinite Prison.' Each story seemed so vivid and exciting when the 'actiony' stuff happened that Raynare (occasionally) didn't mind when it took an hour or two of exposition for Baraqiel to get to the good parts.

But this wasn't about the distant past of others and their great feats. This was about the young Fallen and her first venture onto human soil. Who, at the moment, was walking up the steps to a rather large, thick red-bricked building, smile brightening her face as she walked through the revolving doors.

* * *

Perhaps Raynare was expecting wonder. Perhaps she expected mysticism or brilliance. Perhaps she even expected some level of elevated structuring that showed off what it truly meant to be a high member of Grigori's foundation.

But in truth, the building's innards were as natural and un-magical as the rest of Washington. Simple brick structure, nice marble flooring, rooms with numbered doors for easy navigation – all very human.

It would have done little good for a building as essential to the North American faction of the Grigori to stand out as a sore thumb. Constant levels of prominent magical or Angelic machinations would have been like a headlight to all and any enemies of the Fallen Angels. Blending in with the humans and remaining an essential branch in the growing nation of the United States was the essential idea, devised by the ever wise Lords Azazel and Shemhazai.

But Raynare did not seem to notice the mundane nature of the building. The unimpressive nature of her surroundings only heightened the amazing view her young, impressionable mind was now witnessing.

Angels. _Fallen_ Angels. Fallen Angels_ everywhere._ At every corner of the lobby, from pairs to large groups, Raynare saw the faces of _dozens_ of familiar, prominent, _legendary_ members that made up the bulk of Grigori's greatness.

_OH! Ohmylordohmylordohmylord! Th-that-that's Lord Tamiel! He coordinates all business transactions from the here to the __**Underworld!**__ They say he only sleeps once every month-oh, OH! Lord Penemue! He-he regulates budgets for__**everything!**__ Those two are the bestest of friends-OH MY LORDS! __**ARMAROS! LORD ARMAROS! THE LORD ARMAROS! I LOVE YOU!**_

A small squeal escaped Raynare's mouth, staring at the, admittedly, even by Fallen standards, good-looking Angel.

_**I WANT TO STUDY THE WORLD OF MAGIC WITH YOU! TEACH ME! PRIVATELY! MY MANA IS READY!**_

The young Fallen certainly appeared excited. Face red and gleeful, it was taking every bit of willpower she had not openly 'happy-dance' in the lobby. And with Armaros in her sights…

One of her escorts appeared curious to her sudden exhilaration. "Uh, Ms. Raynare-?"

"_Shh!_" She hissed, holding up a single finger to the talking guard without turning her gaze away. "One moment, please."

The escort, though slightly taken aback, obediently complied, letting her have her…'moment.'

She stared. Hard. For a good fifteen seconds, she stared straight on to something neither of her guards was sure at what.

Then, Raynare gave a hard shudder, shifting her gaze to the floor. "_Okay_," She breathed out, smiling and taking deep breaths, "okay, I'm good now. Just had to," she paused again, returning her gaze back up, "_wow_." She giggled.

Her guards hadn't a clue what to make of this. "Ahem, Ms. Raynare? Shouldn't we be-?"

"YES! Yes, yes! W-we should be moving now!" Her high pitched voice didn't garner much attention from those waiting in the lobby for the meeting to begin, but her escorts seemed alarmed by her sudden change in composure. "D-dad must be waiting. Let's go!"

She took lead, again, her steps noticeably faster as she walked past the famous faces of the Fallen Faction. Her guards followed, but not without some bizarre glances at their lord's ward…

* * *

"…How many times must I run the predictions by you until it is clear?" Sahariel, one of the founders of the Grigori and prominent researcher over natural planetary satellites (or moons), asked with clear frustration. "Your 'candidate' has about as much chance at succeeding in office as Buchanan. He is a _cripple_, Azazel! How can that inspire leadership in a time when what we need is someone who can actually step on his toes?"

Traversing the Grigori's hallways with quick steps, Azazel fought back a groan. "Is there any chance we could suspend these _wonderful_ talks about national politics until the meeting starts?" He was hopeful, but seeing the look on his colleague's face, a distinctive 'no,' killed his optimism as quickly as it came. "Besides, Hoover had his chance – no good came of it."

"Hoover was dealt a bad hand." Sahariel countered. "This economic situation has been a far-reaching, internationally-conflicting, domino-effect of unemployment and poor money holding occurrences." The two of them turned a corner. "No one predicted such a massive downturn in the stock market. Not even Tamiel, and he practically _breaths_ stock information. If a man who's studied the human marketplace for millennia couldn't have stopped such a poor contained situation, then tell me how Hoover would possibly have been able to?" Sahariel, frowning, turned and gave a hard glance at Azazel. "I believe Hoover has potential to reform the nation; a strong _faith_. And not some broken governor from _New York_ will stand out amongst someone with a term of experience and understanding of the nation's suffering."

Azazel returned Sahariel's stare, hearing the strong backing behind his words. _Better to choose the devil you know then the devil you don't? Not a bad concept, but-_ "Roosevelt still has my vote of confidence," Grigori's leader reaffirmed. "I will not judge a man on his ability to talk and to think based on the functionality of his legs – and you would do well to not insult cripples in my presence." He pointed a finger at the lunar researcher, his point received. "The New York Governor has my interest. His 'New Deal' idea has my intrigue. And frankly, I want to see how it pans out." Humans were always so fascinating. One second, they looked they reached the peak of their potential. The next, they were scaling past that peak and moving onto the next. It was actually exciting to see; like watching a child take its first steps. Humans were so much fun to watch!

However, now wasn't the time to admire the humans for the advancements. Instead, seeing small signs of annoyance on his old friend's features, Azazel decided the talks on politics were reaching a zone of intensity neither was feeling overly comfortable with.

So, with a smirk and a casual throw of his arm around the grizzly man's shoulders, Azazel tried to ease the tension between. "Besides, when have you known me to be wrong on something as important as this? Hmm? Come on! Have a little faith in your old pal!"

Watching his old political rival purse his lips under the, admittedly, accurate boast was a little victory in itself. When it came to matters of international state, the Governor General was rarely (if ever) wrong. He did his homework, studied his opponents, and valued whatever information he was able to ascertain. It was what made Azazel the leader of the Fallen Ones. He was crafty, charismatic and intelligent. And while Shemhazai, his right-hand man, was certainly no slouch with his own intellectual capabilities, he preferred to stay in the back corner of most conversations and allow his longtime friend to say the words that needed to be said for the benefit of the Grigori and all who associated with them.

The two together were exceptionally persuasive with any and all manner of conversation or argument.

And yet, Sahariel would not fully recognize or accept Azazel's thoughts. Not that the man did not bring up or possess sound reasons behind his motivation to support the Democratic candidate – they were quite good, if he were being honest – but it did not mean he would relent. While he held strong beliefs in second chances, especially to those who he felt earned the right to have them, there was also a secondary means for why he hoped he could convince the Fallen council into supporting Hoover for reelection. Something he could not pass up.

Though selfish desires weren't frowned upon by the Grigori (in fact, you were downright encouraged to indulge yourself on anything and everything that gave you a mental, physical or emotional high), Sahariel knew if his motives behind supporting the previous, deemed inept, President of the United States were to be found out…

Brushing his old comrade's arm from his shoulder, Sahariel tightened his necktie gruffly before turning around to look down the hallway they just passed.

"_Myra_," he called, "is everything prepared for today?"

Turning around himself, Azazel looked over to the far corner from where the two Fallen leaders had walked past moments ago, only to see just the smallest glimmer of a figure's eye, watching them carefully, as they talked and discussed their individual matters uninterrupted.

Stepping into the hallway, a slender, well-kept woman of significant poise and obvious pride made herself known. Her skin was a light pink, with hair an almost hazelnut coloring and a glowing pair of honey gold eyes. Wearing a dark blouse over a gray jacket, with a matching skirt and dark brown high heels to finish the ensemble of a high class, highly professional woman, Myra – as Sahariel called her – stood quietly to be observed by her betters.

Azazel stared at the newest addition to their little meeting, feeling the edges of his lips turn into something akin to a smile and a smirk with a mischievous edge at the end. "Ah, so it _is_ true then," he snickered, voice oozing with a hidden joy at what he felt was a growing, humorous situation, "the secretary of Lunar Research, Observation and Theory really _does_ follow you everywhere." Azazel playfully poked at his associate, watching the previously hard and tempered Sahariel be flustered by to the woman's unnecessary actions. "Oh, you _dog_, you!"

It was common rumor that the chief lunar researcher of the Grigori had an almost frighteningly loyal secretary, who doted on the man's every need and ambition, not unlike a dedicated lover (though everyone knew Sahariel was married to his work). Every action, every theory and every consideration that came from Lunar Research had, in one way or another, his and her fingerprint on it.

Myra the Secretary was dedicated, loyal and motivated in assisting Sahariel in all matters he sought.

"My lords," said woman spoke up, her voice equally beautiful and monotonous as she offered a curt bow to the two men, "I came to inform you both that the meeting will begin in approximately thirteen minutes," she reminded, noting a standing clock in the hallway, its long point nearing the top as the men continued their little chat-and-walk through the building. "Shall we make haste to the boardroom, Lord Sahariel? I have your folders and projections accounted for and your speech prepared, but I would like to discuss the matters of-"

"DAD!"

Myra hadn't been able to finish. In fact, her voice was quickly cut off from whatever matter of importance she was meaning to discuss by the sudden, loud interruption coming from further down the hall.

Azazel and Sahariel, surprised in the own ways by the sudden disturbance to their semi-business-like environment, turned away from the secretary to look towards the quickly approaching form of a, from Sahariel's viewpoint, very young Fallen Angel, followed swiftly by a small group of well-dressed Angels.

Raynare, excited and panting from her jog around the building, in search for her guardian, quickly ran up to Lord Azazel without seeming to notice the two other important Angelic figures beside him. "Hey dad! Dad! You won't_believe_ who I saw downstairs! I-I saw Lord Tamiel an-and he was talking with Lord Penemue and I don't know what they were talking about, but it looked _super_ important and-OH! ARMAROS! I saw Lord Armaros! And he is just so…so…_haaa_…"

She swooned again; face crimsoned and coupled with the completely relaxed smile that showed she was pleased with what she saw.

Azazel could only laugh, turning to the confused pair of Fallen at his side. Calming himself, he pulled Raynare to his side, smiling proudly. "Apologies, Myra. My daughter forgot herself." Raynare didn't seem to notice, still caught in the 'glow of Armaros' before feeling a small tap on her shoulder to knock her from her daydream. She finally seemed to realize she was in the presence of others. "May I introduce my daughter, Raynare. She will be joining us in the conference room as my plus one." He gestured a hand to the two Fallen. "Raynare, this is Lord-"

"Sahariel!" Raynare interrupted, excitedly ripping herself from her father to stand, positively _glowing_, in front of the new Angel. "You're one of the original founders of the Grigori! The lead developer, researcher, theorist and philosopher of Lunar Research, Observation and Theory, Grigori Faction!" Raynare's enthusiasm was loud, certainly, but it did seem to surprise Sahariel in a small way, if his single raised dark eyebrow was anything to go by. "Founded early tenth century with the discovery of the first pureblooded werewolf, Sahariel recognized the importance of celestial beings and planetary bodies and, alongside a small group of still loyal original members, has strived to discover the secrets of the universe, though with a currently strict focus on earth's moon since the sixteenth century."

She paused for a moment. "Remembered and decorated as a war hero for bravery at Voltinye Valley, Heathcliff's Hole and the Peregelene Peninsula. Only survivor of the Kaasah Mine Fall with a personal renowned accomplishment of going into single combat with one of the original Satan Lords, both as a Pure and Fallen Angel." She took a breath. "Oh! And your hobbies include stargazing, gardening, midnight walks on the beach and…and…uh…"

She paused for a moment. It took Raynare a moment, it seemed, to grasp the full extent of what she was saying to the elder Fallen. Her lips started to part into a gape, her eyes widened, and her reddened cheeks, if nothing else, was a dead giveaway to just how _embarrassed_ she was feeling.

It didn't help that she could hear her father's silent snicker off to the side, or feel the cold stare of the unknown woman at Sahariel's side.

Flustered and self-conscious of her sudden and very vocalized 'understanding' of one of the original founders of Grigori, Raynare attempted to alleviate her growing sense of discomfort by bowing deeply to the perplexed Sahariel, all the while apologizing loudly with the most complex word uses she knew.

"_Peace_, child," the elder Fallen said, waving his hand in an attempt to stifle the insistent attempts at formal apologies. "No harm was meant nor found. You may relent on your apologies." Raynare, carefully, lifted her head to make eye contact with the hard expression of Sahariel. It was difficult to tell if he was serious about being unfazed by her blabbing or not. His facial features, like his scientific interest, was rigid, cold and unchanging, no matter the situation. "But I do find myself curious on how you found out such…_familiar_ details about my person…"

Raynare straightened out her posture, swallowing hard at the tall, admittedly strong statured Angel. She tried to come up with an answer that summed up the entirety of how she got such personal information, without coming off as timid as a Sunday school girl.

"…Baraqiel loves to talk?" She replied, her words coming off more as a question as if this was an acceptable answer.

Sahariel, in his great wisdom and understanding of his fellow Fallen, nodded after a brief, lip-curling moment.

"_Indeed_." The older Fallen Angel replied, accepting her words as making the most sense out of anything else she might have given him. "The old crow certainly is a peculiar one, is he not? For someone so quiet, I do believe Baraqiel enjoys the sound of his own voice more than he should. Hmph. Certainly enjoys giving stories more detail than necessary…"

"You can say that again…" Raynare, still unable to make eye contact, agreed quietly. Turning to Azazel, who was clearly more amused about the situation than young Fallen felt he should have been, she quickly moved to his arm, grabbed hold and started to tug Grigori's leader away from the awkward scene.

"Come on, dad. Meeting's starting soon."

"_Aaaah_, is _'wittle Waynare' embawessed_?"

"_Dad, be quiet!"_

* * *

Sahariel was not a bad man. Like any man – human, Angel, Devil or otherwise – he strived to further his goals and ambitions towards an end game, with the hope of a significant return on his investment and time. He acknowledged that with any long-term goal; blocks and challenges were almost certainly going to occur. Being an Angel, time was not an immediate factor of concern. And even in the case of monetary values, his personal estate was by no means lacking, either.

And yet, there still seemed to be complications of actual progress to be made, it seemed.

As the young Fallen - Raynare, he attempted to put to memory - stated, the old lord of Grigori held the office of 'Lunar Research, Observation and Theory' since its original founding, several centuries back. And as was stated, his interest in all things beyond the comforts of dimensional worlds and earthly bounds were quite well-known. Centuries of scouring the vast cosmoses of different worlds, in search of life beyond, had given him quite a practice to spend his free hours doing.

Sahariel was an Angel with his mind beyond the clouds, the skies, and the very heavens themselves...

At present, Sahariel watched Azazel, laughing and joking with his ward, walk away without worry, strife or concern down the halls of the Grigori headquarters.

In many ways, this irked him. Perhaps his sin of Pride believed he should have garnered at least some worth of unease in his political opponent.

Did he have some backup plan? Some ideas or information of worth that would sway the others to his side? Was that the reason for his unfazed attitude?

Watching the guardian and his ward walk excitedly in the direction of the meeting's room – Azazel's laughing, Raynare's pouting and yelling at her 'father' to grow up, with their guards being a monotonous and quite as they had been when they arrived – Sahariel's mind wandered to the strange happenings surrounding the Fallen child.

Myra, ever observant, noticed her lord's watchfulness.

"My lord, something troubles you?" She asked, her voice turning a touch softer then how she spoke in the presence of Grigori's leader.

Sahariel, never one to hold much back from his most trusted member of staff, turned his attention away from the pair and down to Myra's inquiring expression. "I was just…_musing,_" he told her, "on how the young Miss Raynare is developing into a fine young woman; a true symbol of Azazel's guidance and care." He barked a laugh. "I wouldn't be surprised if Azazel was _grooming her_ to be a prominent player in the Grigori. He always did have an interest in bringing out the utmost in his projects." It wouldn't be too farfetched; Azazel was a man of ambition and foresight. This girl might very well have been his attempt at creating a legacy for himself, should the time come to pass down the reigns of Grigori's leadership onto another.

"And this troubles you why, my lord?"

"Hmm, it shouldn't." He admitted. "It's just unusual. This Raynare; perhaps it is her association with Azazel?" So close to the summit to decide the presidency for the future of a nation, it was impossible to not feel some strife towards those associated with your political opponent – annoying, though it might have been, to be angry at a child who had no actual background in the world of Grigori politics. She certainly came off as someone to associate with easily, and under different circumstances, he might have felt a small bit of flattery at such enthusiasm and joy to be within his presence.

But though she was only a child to his eyes, she was also the child of his opponent.

This gave the man pause, as Sahariel turned to his close friend and confidant, looking her in the eyes and silently proclaiming the importance of the moment. "Myra, a question: what is _your_ opinion of her?" He asked, and seeing tension build in her posture, lifted his hand, similar to how he attempted to calm the embarrassed Raynare, and comfortingly added, "And speak freely. I could use an extra voice on the Fallenborn child." Whether she was a future political rival to get on his good side, a thorn to consider and be wary of or just a child who he shouldn't contemplate a second of further thought towards, his secretary was certainly the more openly considerate of the two. And, if given free reign, would not shirk her words.

Myra the Fallen Angel was a _master_ of the art of prediction, which many considered bordered on perceived foresight. Her ability to read humans and guess the circumstances that would come of even the slightest use of a word or comment was second to none. And though she was by no means a psychic or a divine being who could perceive a limited degree of the future, many doubted that there wasn't, at least, _some_ Godly gift bestowed upon her.

She was too accurate – _too precise_ – in her warnings to have just a simple knack for reading the news or the people around her.

She predicted the assassination of Julius Caesar, saw the rising religious strife that would eventually bring about the Thirty Years' War and bet money on whether the United States would enter a Civil War with itself. And this was just with human conflicts. When it came to people, she most certainly had a gift; a gift, which over the millennia, many had hoped to use for their own personal projects, goals or ambitions. Her ability border lined the stuff of legends. And though not an original member of Grigori, nor a prominent fighter in the Great War, Myra was undoubtedly a valuable asset to whomever she was aligned towards and garnered just as much respect as her elder peers.

Why then had she chosen to stand beside Sahariel; a man whose focus of study was hardly oriented around the divination of the people or predicting the comings of the earth? Why, many Fallen would ask, was gifted Myra so enamored with Sahariel and his work?

From far strung rumors of blackmail to an unrequited love or even some sort of mind control, whatever the reasons, it would seem she was content with keeping the information personal and a secret from any and all inquisitors.

Guarded, capable, devoted – excellent qualities which were all readily available and given at Sahariel's command.

And now, being asked by said man on a matter of concern that brought him troubled thoughts, she decided to give her best answer on the recent addition to the Fallen ranks.

"The child is…just that." She began, choosing her words carefully as Sahariel gave her his full attention. "She is young. Knowledgeable and pretty, if by first impression alone. Her appreciation of your history does shine a somewhat better light on her then I originally placed her in, I will admit. And being the child of two lustful Fallen is…unique." Myra nodded to herself; deciding this was a good way to start her small analysis of the child. Positives, first.

And then the negatives. "However, I found her to be _inconsiderate_ and _rude_ for not addressing you, nor Lord Baraqiel or Lord Azazel, by their proper titles. Such an offense is irresponsible and thoughtless and should be plucked before it festers out of control." It seemed easier to find the bad and talk about it than the good. "And though apologetic, she talks first and thinks over her words _second_. A trait, I believe at this point in her young life, she should have better control over." She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts and breath. "Further, she is the ward to your current opponent on the matter of the presidential election. That, at least personally, gives me reason to believe we should be…"

She paused briefly, thinking of the right words for the child.

"…We should be…_wary_ of her, at least…"

Myra finished. Perhaps she didn't notice how tightly she held to the folder in her arms, or realized the narrowed look of her cheeks as she stared absently down the long hallway. Throughout her musings and personal rendition of the Fallen child, known as Raynare, her appearance grew steadily more aggressive and hard, enthralled by her own words.

To Myra, Raynare was neither perfect nor inept. She wasn't aware of her place in Grigori's political spectrum or the importance she might hold in the near future. She was naïve in that regard, but not necessarily stupid. Youth was her only fault, which the years would no doubt fix.

But still, she was - at least for the moment and only by her association to her guardian - the _enemy_. One of potential growth and capability.

And enemies, even ones with only a limited potential, were still _enemies_…

Sahariel silently listened to his secretary, watching the shifts in composure as she discussed her observations openly. Like he asked, she spoke freely and without the fear of being judged.

He liked that about her. She was blunt as a hammer on a nail. At times, it held his annoyance and disapproval, but at that moment, it was appreciated. "Thank you, Myra. I will keep your council in mind." He kept his tone neutral, as was usual, but nodded his approval to her forthcoming. "Now, I believe we have a meeting to attend to?"

"Oh. Yes, of course. Well, before we start, I just wanted to remind you about your timing on the third valid point. It's almost perfect_,_ however…"

* * *

Like the rest of the Fallen Headquarters, the Room of Collaboration, as it was simply named, was adequate in appearance and well-designed for its essential purpose, but was little more than that.

The Room of Collaboration, or simply 'The Room,' sponsored a single long, wooden table across the center of it, with a dozen or so comfortable-appearing chairs adjourning its sides (six on each). The walls were coated with a tannish-toned paint; corners were marble pillars that held the tall room's ceiling high (in case for a situation where wings wished to be stretched/guests that weren't Fallen Angel average heights were invited); and the corners of the room held a number of chairs that, while similar in appearance to the ones around the center table, didn't have any sort of comfort to lay items or personal effects on. Its appearance was very business in style and held little warmth to it. It was not a place for comfort or enjoyment and only to be used in the most important of discussions or meetings. A nation in desperate need of a strong leader to help produce a strong economic situation that would, in practice, help assist other nations in their own dire financial situations seemed like a good reason to use The Room.

The meeting started with Azazel, standing and addressing all attended at the head of the table, in a naturally formal and quite proud tone, befitting his station. He smiled, addressed the camaraderie of Grigori's finest and fit the position as 'Lord Among the Fallen' to the letter. All in all, the initial stages of the meeting went quite well, with Azazel allowing his opponent, Sahariel, to stand before the original founders of the Grigori and begin his portion of the debate.

While this was going on, Raynare sat quietly off to the side of the conference room, legs crossed and face tense as she tried to take in every detail, word and movement made while also attempting to hold back her excitement for actually seeing all of the founding members of Grigori in one place.

She wanted to take pictures, run the list of accomplishments each member held through her mind, perhaps even ask for an autograph but managed to refrain herself. It would have done little good to make a scene and ruin her appearance to those who closely associated themselves with her father. In a way, she represented the tutelage, guidance and ability of her father. Young though she was, even she would not deny herself some pride in knowing she was someone of import, if only through her association with the Governor General.

Raynare hoped to change that, eventually, through personal merit, hard work and dedication to improving the way of life for all Fallen. Youthful devotion and enthusiasm, though it may have simply been, there was no denying the smile it brought to Azazel's face when she openly declared her intentions to take his job from him, one day.

He looked forward to it, in fact, but back to the matter at hand.

Raynare's attention was solely kept on the first stages of the meeting. The opening reasons for the meeting, the arguments made by Sahariel, followed shortly after by a counter argument by her dad, then a repeat between the two, using large words and information she was certain wasn't readily available to the public. The way the two bantered and contradicted or even back-talked one another in ways that hoped to get a rise out of the other while still remaining true to the topic at hand was nothing short of stunning.

During the proceeds, Raynare was certain she would have screamed and shouted had she been in her father's place (tempted to do so anyway for talking against her dad like that!) but refrained, seeing as how everyone else in the room was quietly viewing the situation with an open mind and eye.

She guessed she should have considered herself fortunate; there were only thirty to forty Fallen allowed to view this important matter. Invitation was limited; each founder being limited to only one extra to be brought into the meeting, with the rest who remained being there for security reasons. While most brought in their assistants or some form of personal aide, Azazel decided to bring in his ward and show her the political side of the Grigori Organization.

Realizing this (and thoroughly touched to be considered so highly), Raynare decided that showing a little courtesy and remaining silent would not be the end of her…

* * *

It was unwise for any meeting with the several founders of Grigori to remain in the cramped, uncomfortable room for long.

The Room wasn't suited for conversations lasting usually longer than an hour, which helped its persuasive power for the Fallen Lords to reach a vote of universal decision quickly, if only to get out of the dull surroundings they were forced to remain in. The last time the lords remained in the cramped space for longer than an hour, by the end, it required a new roof, table, chairs and paint job.

The Room of Collaboration, essentially, _sucked_.

Thankfully, it seemed the matter of argument that required The Room's 'persuasive power' would end faster than others. With the American's Presidential Elections coming up soon, a choice would have to be made (in contrast to other issues, which could be argued over for weeks, months or even years (they were not limited by a human lifespan, so such issues were rarely of anyone's concern)). As you can imagine, this would be difficult if there were two parties opposing sides and with a shortened timeframe, this matter alone was earning quite a bit of attention and wonder on who would win.

Sadly, after an hour of arguing, no full vote was met in support of one side or another (which only ever happened once in the history of the lords arguing). Thus, the lords of Grigori broke for lunch.

There wasn't a cafeteria in the building. Such needs for food or drink would have to be done elsewhere. This would give time for the several lords to go their own ways and return some two-three hours later after cooling off whatever tense emotions were built up during their rare meet-up.

Walking out the front doors of the building, even Raynare was appreciative for the brief reprieve from the conversations and arguments. Though focused and cool during the discussions, it was still a political meeting occurring in front of a teenager. Boredom was a natural part of the age group. And now, standing outside and feeling the warmth of the sun and feeling fresh air blowing through her hair, Raynare felt quite pleased for her first breath of fresh air in what felt like _hours_.

"Hmmm-haaaaaa! Phew! I can breathe again!" She laughed loudly, pumping her arms up in a stretch. "Oh, and how I missed you sun! You beautiful, blinding thing in the sky!"

Azazel, following slowly behind, chuckled. He felt tempted to remind her that the meeting really did only last an _hour_. But, why ruin her fun? "Raynare," he caught said girl's attention, "how about a little something to eat before we have to go back, hmm? Anything you'd like, we'll get."

Now thoroughly pleased with having escaped the Room of Collaboration with the new prospect of a grand lunch ahead, Raynare felt ready to run off the list of human delicacies she'd heard about since arriving. Creativity seemed to be their main attraction; even during the economically hard times, the United States' major cities still held a place or two that held high-class accommodations. This was doubly so when considered this was the politically active and wealthy-lived city of Washington.

However, whatever joy might have been quickly growing inside the youth was thoroughly _crushed_ by the arrival of two familiar Fallen Lords.

Baraqiel and Shemhazai walked smoothly out of Grigori's Headquarters, both dressed impressively in human-apparel which, even to one as clueless about human fashion as the young Fallen, held a sense of importance and position that spoke highly of both individuals. Baraqiel's black hair was cut close and smoothed back to avoid his eyes, while Shemhazai's shoulder-length sandy-blond was held tightly by a single string behind his neck, making his appearance more youthful then most of the Fallen Raynare was familiar with.

Their faces were straight and focused. This was what was commonly referred to by Azazel as the 'no-nonsense-we-have-work-to-do-stop-joking-around' looks that meant work was being put ahead of pleasure and relaxation at the moment.

Which meant, as Raynare was only well aware, if only by the remembrance of such occurrences happening all too frequently in her youth, of what was coming next.

Baraqiel moved to his lord's side, whispering something unintelligible to the younger Fallen but caused a frown to appear on Azazel's lips. Nodding reluctantly, he uttered a quiet, "I'll meet you both momentarily," to the two of them, receiving brief nods in return before the two turned back to the building.

Raynare frowned along with her father. "No lunch?"

He shook his head, mumbling, "Not for me, I'm afraid." He let out a long sigh, reaching into his suit's inner pocket and pulling out, what appeared to be, a large stack of green papers.

Azazel flipped his finger through the thin sheets, counting off a few sheets before pulling them out and handing them to his ward. "There's fifty. Take it anywhere you'd like and have a meal for the both of us." Raynare, guessing the handed papers were something monetary used by the humans. Certainly, they were a contrast to what she was taught and familiarized with using (gold, jewels, diamonds and so on).

Though she found it strange why printed paper could hold actual value, she couldn't deny it was easier to hold in hand. "Okay."

"Don't be afraid to spend it, I have more. Just go find someplace fancy and enjoy some music. It's not every day you're old man brings you to the human world, hmm?" He was smirking, and despite not being able to join her, Raynare managed to smile back.

"I guess." He was often busy with work. This was nothing new. "I'll have fun, I promise."

"Good." He raised a hand to ruffle her still growing black hair, earning an annoyed growl. "Now, come. I'll assemble your escort and prep them for departure. Should only take a minute or two-"

And that's where Raynare voiced her opinion on _that_ decision. "_Ahhh! _Dad_, come on! _You can't be serious!" _I'm fourteen, damn it!_ "I'm not a kid anymore! I can handle myself!"

Azazel crossed his arms. "Hey now, this is a big city and not exactly the safest one to be found carrying a bit of change like that around in your hands. You need someone to watch your back."

"Dad, _again_, I'm _not_ a kid anymore! If someone messes with me," she lifted her arm, feeling the pull of light and energy to almost create solid form before her father quickly placed his own hand over hers, effectively dissipating whatever formation might have created.

That earned a sharp look from the man, but Raynare ignored it. "I'll be fine. _Promise._"

She gave him a look. _The_ look. A look, it often seemed, every daughter innately knew since birth. A look that said 'please daddy please daddy pleeeease!' in the most affectionate way possible.

And Raynare was naturally cute. That added a practical +10 to its effectivity on anyone who was hit with its 'full effects.'

Though his eyes were hard and jaw tightly grit, Azazel's face did hold some worry and nervousness to it as he looked Raynare over. She was, by all accounts, his daughter. That came with some responsibility and obligation to put her safety above all else.

And yet, she wouldn't be a child for long…

"Nope. Nah-ah. No, definitely _not_." He shook his head, releasing his grip on her arm and wagging his finger pointedly in the young girl's face. "Now you listen here: you are going to wait _right here_ until I get back with a _platoon _of guys to watch you eat, laugh, burp – _whatever_ it is you do at a restaurant, you hear me?" Raynare raised an eyebrow then, frowning still. "You are _not_ to move _one step_ until then. You are not to go _anywhere_, nor do _anything,_until I bring out some people. You understand, little missy?" Raynare was starting to look very confused, narrowing her eyes at the bizarre tone and choice of words from the usually carefree caretaker.

Then her expression lit up. "Oh, I _understand_." She smiled then, nodding quickly. "I won't leave _this spot_. _At all_." She stood up straight, hands behind her back and looking positively vibrant.

Azazel, in response, nodded with firmness. "I expect nothing less from you, _my dear_." He stated, tone taking a weird, over-the-top firmness as he pulled the smiling girl close and placed a small kiss to her forehead. "You are a most _obedient_child, you are."

Raynare giggled. "I try."

* * *

_Present…_

His first step forward made Raynare flinch.

His second caused her to take a nervous one back, herself.

His third, fourth, fifth, and so on, brought on a sweat that wasn't because of weariness.

Naruto didn't seem to react much to the closing distance between himself and the Fallen Angel. His eyes, for the last while, remained hard and red, _glowing_ in the dark church. His appearance was not dissimilar to what Raynare guessed old Satan Lords must have appeared as towards the first conflicts of the Great War; tall, without fear and _oozing_ unnatural power that shouldn't have been possible to hold.

At least for one who wasn't blessed by the Father's holy light.

She wondered if they felt what she did; the anxiety. The distress. The growing feeling that, if she were to even attempt an escape, she wouldn't make it far.

He would hunt her.

For he was the predator and she was prey.

And now, with his standing form no more than a foot in front of her, she couldn't imagine those dark, foreboding eyes belonging to anything more than some savage _beast_ in human skin. For what but a monster could bring such unnerve with nothing more than a raw stare? Those unnatural, slitted pair of red…

She expected some form of attack. Some disorienting move that truly captured the feral appearance of Naruto Uzumaki. She wanted him to do something aggressive and rage-fueled. She wanted him to make a mistake through his anger and create an opening for a kill shot. She wanted the monster to _be __**monstrous**__._

So why wasn't he? Why wasn't he angry?

She killed the nun. Did it for power; for herself. She attempted to skewer him without mercy. She insulted him, the nun, and made herself the undoubtable obstacle in whatever chalked-up plan he had for saving the _dead_ nun.

Why, _why_ wasn't he angry?

Why wasn't he furious, red faced, seething? Why didn't he spout words of heroism or justice – wasn't that what heroes did? Speak about righteousness and the betterment of the world? Why wasn't he doing…_anything?!_

Why wasn't he, Naruto Uzumaki, angry…?

_Just…just…do __**something**__!_

And he did.

* * *

Naruto lifted his arm, slowly and without any sign of ill intention, reaching out towards Raynare's prominently shaking form. His fingernails, she recalled, looked like they could rip the skin right off of her. And yes, even with the small light of the full moon passing through the damaged roof above, they _did_ seem to shine like small knives on his fingers.

It was only that glisten of his nails that shook Raynare out of her stupor and realize her thoughts were being answered.

_NO NO NO!_

She responded quickly, her face tightening into a snarl as her arm lifted to its side. The energy came so naturally to her now, feeling it twist and solidify into a desired shape faster than she ever dreamed she would possibly be capable of. She felt the smooth ridge of her spear in her hand, felt the energy elongate and twist into something easy and quick to make. It was swift; it took even less time to bring her arm back before driving it forward, the spear's sharp edge parting the air as it narrowed the distance between its point and target.

The target being Naruto's head.

_I. AM. NOT. WEAK!_

Naruto's outstretch arm stopped short from the girl's body.

It shot to his side, the back of his hand brushing the spear's head and brushing it _harshly_ to the side.

His arm was longer; his strength _higher_; and his speed? _Inhuman_.

What might have been a simple brush of his arm to the side, in an attempt to stop the spear from its desired goal, had the added effect of knocking it out of Raynare's grip and tossing it towards the church's wall – _shattering_ it into a several dozen finger-sized spheres of light, each quickly evaporating into thin air.

Raynare, to her credit, was surprised but didn't stop her assault. Instead, seeing an opportunity, she decided to create some much needed distance between herself and her red-eyed foe. Leaping back towards one of the far corners of the church, using her wings appearing to add additional strength to her distancing of herself and the teen, she brought her hands immediately to her sides, readying another quick stream of spears – this time with added width, strength and explosive power. This was her plan.

It didn't happen. Naruto was already on her before her arms even had the chance to channel her focus.

His stance changed from its straight position. Now, he was lower to the ground, his legs bent and wide while his arms were curved. His hands were made into fists and coupled with his still red eyes, looked almost eagerly awaiting the chance to hit something.

They didn't wait long to, either. His fist almost instantly drove itself into the Fallen's stomach soon after her landing.

* * *

A punch to the stomach is a complicated occurrence.

The body instinctively tries to tighten itself to reduce the impact and internal damage one feels from the invasion of personal space. Using muscles, one's body tries to contain or prevent any harmful outside force from entering. Those muscles, either through training or natural development, are the second line of defense against attack, behind one's skin. This is often the situation or happening where other muscles or areas of attack might occur in.

In short, muscles, while being often a testament to one's strength, are also a creature's way of defense.

But, though rare, there are the occurrences where the body is unable to contort itself to prevent an oncoming attack. Being caught unaware or unassuming can lead to a body's lack of reaction to the imminent action that is about to occur.

The circumstance of Raynare's sudden fist-invading blow to the abdomen was of the latter sort: the punch came so quickly – so suddenly – and without any sort of warning that her muscles simply hadn't reacted. The blond's punch, a sharp contrast to his previous intimidation show, wasn't held back by any of the Fallen's natural instincts for self-protection and effortlessly smashed into her unguarded torso.

But she saw it all. Even without time to react. She saw it – _the blur._

He was fast. _Too fast_. He was at the center of the church, then he was at the end, closing the gap between them and landing the first blow without so much as a _speck_ of mercy to his features.

His eyes were still on hers. That was the last thing she saw before the pain _erupted_ inside of her.

She remembered gagging on pained breath – her mouth agape. She could feel bits of spit (or maybe blood) slide down from the corner of her mouth. Her legs shifted backwards, attempting to keep balance while holding her now shaking form. She would have used her arms, had they not been covering the point of impact carefully, hoping to stop the pain before it became, if it were possible, _worse._

Was her eye twitching? They were certainly wide enough; perfect violet orbs being stared uncompromisingly by her blond assailant. Of whom, Naruto, standing still with arm still outstretched, allowed a brief moment for the pain to fully set in his Fallen combatant; the _pigeon_ not seeming to like being on the receiving end of the pain he was coldly bringing to her.

The shock of the attack was vibrating through her, making it difficult to think, let alone fully make sense, of what just occurred.

But one thought was obvious to her. It was just as painful a thought – revelation, if you would – as the fist driven through her abdomen.

He, Naruto Uzumaki, was in control.

And now, bringing his arm to the side again, Raynare's red-eyed assailant threw his fist in an arc across the stunned Fallen's face. The blow, echoing loudly into the church, sent her flying (this time, without the assistance of her wings) into the far corner of the church.

* * *

_Washington, D.C., United States, Mid 1932, mid-afternoon…_

Ominous dark clouds started to move overhead in the capital of the United States. Though unpredicted by forecast officials or meteorologists, who previously assured a bright, clear-sunny day to the city's inhabitants, it seemed many had opted to bring along appropriate clothing and umbrellas, in case of such an occurrence, with many of those who hadn't come prepared dashing into nearby restaurants or buildings to avoid the oncoming storm.

Many except for Raynare, who despite acknowledging the dark clouds on her way back to the Fallen Headquarters, did not seem to mind.

What was a little rain or mud or water to her? She certainly wasn't afraid to get the 'wonderful piece of human fashion' dirty and even snickered in hopefulness.

Her meal was _fantastic. _Amazing what fifty American moneys could purchase you during the early thirties. The meal was rich, hot, tenderized, well-flavored and spiced and warmed her soul to its core. Overall, sitting in her leather booth, she found this single occurrence to be a very fond experience, if a bit lonesome, though she repeatedly reminded herself that it was and that she got it and that her dad was simply busy. It was perfectly understandable and repeated the exact reasons why she understood her father's plight several times during, before and after the meal, if only to erase the loneliness of having to venture out into the big city without company.

She further reminded herself that she _did_ go without an escort trough the city, and while being babysat wasn't her ideal case of fun, they did sometime have words to exchange with her that alleviated some boredom.

But, again, this was her choice and she would hold no regrets to it!

So now, walking the quickly quieting sidewalk, marveling in the growing silence of her surroundings and vacancy of the usually active and crowded city, Raynare relaxed herself before mentally readying herself for another agonizing hour of political talks in 'The Room.'

Brrr. Where once The Room had seemed like a silly story on how even the best Angels could go crazy in there, it was now something that made goosebumps crawl up her skin.

She rubbed her arms, smiling with a giggle. Despite the warm air, it seemed a cold breeze was passing through now. The sky was darkening and the clouds overhead were dimming from grey mounds into deep black nimbus clouds that almost seemed to be coming to the ground.

She laughed at the idea. Clouds (and Angels) were in the sky, people on the ground.

She stared at them further a little longer, laughing at her imagination.

They _still_ seemed like they were falling. Heck, they even seemed to be _growing_. But, surely, that was just her mind playing with her. Clouds didn't _grow._ Not like that.

She cocked her head.

Still dropping.

She blinked.

Still growing wide. And she couldn't see past them.

Her smile fell a little.

Now the dark clouds were covering everything.

And they seemed to be glowing…purple.

No, wait, the clouds had purple lights coming from them. It swirled in them like they were in water. And, looking at them, she almost thought she felt something…wait…no, it couldn't be…

The energy almost looked…_Angelic._

Her eyes widened

_A barrier._

* * *

"_Ohhh_. Look what we have _heeere!_"

A voice shouted out from nowhere. A male's voice.

"A _wittle baby Angel_, looking like an adult with that _pretty_ _little dress!_"

Raynare's eyes widened further, twisting around to turn to the sound of the voice. She didn't see anyone.

The voice was high pitched and giggling behind words. It seemed to come from Raynare's back at first, but now from the side. She tried to move her head to meet the voice, only to see nothing and have it switch where the sound oriented from mid-sentence.

"Oh! How utterly _precious_ you are!

"Precious? _Hardly_."

A new voice now. Still male, but deeper and having a distinct snarl to it that wasn't entirely different from the first voice.

"Disrespectful, I'd say. Insolent, even. Not even calling people _lord_ when it is proper? Not even to her father, in front of his fellow higher beings?"

There was a clicking sound of a tongue.

"Impudent child, indeed."

"Teehee! Oh, no denying that! Such a disrespectful, _awful little __**bitch**_!"

The first voice turned overly aggressive at the end. It unnerved her.

Then it laughed.

"Oops! Might have gone a little far there! Yeeheehee!"

"And yet, she deserves every word."

She heard what sounded like someone spitting on the ground.

"This…_freeloader of freeloaders_ is no more worthy to stand beside the prosperous _Lord_ Azazel than she is to lick his boots clean!"

There wind picked up around her, waving her long hair around.

"_Disgusting_ child. No wonder she is so…_undesired_."

"Heehee! We don't want her! Her parents didn't want her! HA! I bet _Lord_ Azazel doesn't even want her!"

The voices were around her. Everywhere. Mocking and poking her mind.

She tried to ignore them. She tried covering her ears.

Then she felt a foot kick her from behind, knocking her to the earth.

"_Don't you __**dare**__ ignore me, you damn pubescent __**bitch**__!_"

Raynare turned quickly. Whoever the owner of the voice was, it was gone again.

She stood up, warily, feeling the sting of the boot on her back.

She didn't cover her ears again.

"Disrespectful, nosy, ungrateful, ugly little-_gahh!_ Just looking at her-"

"I know. Vermin, isn't she? Never seen a child of Fallen before. Might be the first, if I were to guess."

A harsh laugh.

"Can't say I'm _surprised_ no one else had one. Gross, unnatural thing, she is."

"Bitch is uglier than a Grave Eater rolling in _shit_ ain't she?"

"Now, now, don't insult the Grave Eaters. They actually have _worth_ in the worlds, don't they?"

Laughter again. Raynare continued to swerve in a circle, trying to make out any disturbance in the area. She might have caught a shadow at one point but couldn't be sure.

But she was tired of the mockery.

She raised her arm to the side, focusing on the feeling of light.

Then she felt a smack to her side.

"Ah-ah-ahh! _No! Light! From you!_"

The high pitched voice was laughing again. The deeper one laughed too.

"See how she _squirms_? We'd be doing the world a favor of ridding it of this weakness."

"Hohohoo! Not bad, _not bad!_ I like this idea! Can we do it – _oh, please!_ – _can we do it?!_"

"Oh, we must! Surely this will be allowed-"

"_Silence._"

And then there was.

Raynare blinked. A _third_ voice. Male, again. Commanding, this one, not completely unlike Baraqiel's.

And the voice was in front of her.

Turning her gaze to the sky, she made contact with the first person inside the barrier. She saw a dark cloaked form. The face was covered in rags, blocking out the definitely man's facial features.

He had a pair of black wings holding him up.

"Let us finish this." The third voice's booming tone commanded.

Beside him, two figures, similarly dressed in dark robes as the third voice but noticeably skinnier then he, appeared in the air.

Dark wings, both of them.

They were Fallen.

Raynare's eyes must have been wide, because the skinniest of the three, and the owner of the first voice, was laughing at how 'pretty' her violet eyes looked absolutely terrified.

The third man sent him a brief look, silencing him, before turning his gaze back to the young Fallen.

"Raynare of the Fallen," he shouted, voice booming, "know that I hold no ill will toward you."

He lifted his arm to the side. Silvery beads of light formed a rough sword in his hand.

"But this _must_ be done."

He gave it a throw. It impaled her leg, right through the dress.

* * *

She screamed. She screamed loudly. She screamed louder than she ever had.

Pain. This pain was intense. Weapons of light were just as effective on Angels as anything else.

Harsh reality.

The first and second voices were laughing loudly, almost as if they were trying to laugh louder than she screamed. They wanted her to hear them laugh at her misfortune.

"Oh, this looks fun!"

A body fell in front of her.

"Tell me, does this hurt?"

The man grabbed the sword in her leg and _twisted._

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Yeeheehee! Yep! That hurt her! Now how about _this!_"

He kicked her. A kick to her stomach. The sole of his foot digging into her abdomen.

She lost the air in her lungs, falling backwards.

"YEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Oh, oh! Let me-let me!"

The sword of light was pulled from her leg. She could see through closed, pained eyes the shimmer of the sword breaking.

The sword was gone. Then she felt a leg press down on the opening of her stabbed leg.

"AAAAAHHHHH-NO-NO-AAAGGHHHHH!"

She begged. She begged loudly.

"Heh. You're right. This _is_ kinda fun."

The second voice continued to press down on her open wound.

After a minute of screaming and pressing down, the first voice spoke up again. "Hey-hey! Wait a second! I-I think I got a great idea for her!"

His compatriot, under his disguise, raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?

"Oh yes! And it's a doozy! I call it 'the lesson plan!' Haha! You'll love it!"

They laughed some more, until the pain in her leg dulled for a moment.

Raynare barely heard them. The pain was blinding, deafening, _agonizing_.

Her throat hurt from all the screaming.

Then she felt herself pulled up by her hair. They weren't being any gentler.

They brought her up to their standing eye level. The pain in her leg helped her dull the pain of her hair pulled.

If only a little.

"Ahhh-AHHH-AAAHHHHH!"

The first voice was still laughing. He enjoyed her screaming.

He brought her face close to his eye level.

He whispered:

"Where's your daddy now?"

It took her a moment to make out what he said. She managed to open one eye to meet his stare.

"D…dad's-"

Punch.

"Ah-ah-ahh! No! Bad girl!" He punched her again. Twice. One to the stomach, the other to the face. "It's _Lord_ Azazel. Not _daddy! Lord!_" The man pulled her by the strap of her dress. Though she could not see his face (part in due to the mask and one of her eyes now slowly being swollen shut) she could practically _feel_ the twisted smile before her. "What was the magic word, again?"

_Spit._

"Ah! Cunt spat in my eye!" He dropped her. She fell onto her knees, holding herself up. Then he kicked her in the ribs.

He did it again. And again. And again. And again. Several times again.

Ribs, mouth, legs, neck, arms, back – _everywhere._

Her knees wouldn't hold her. She fell to her sides.

She felt feet on both sides of her. The second voice, no doubt, assisting his friend.

The third voice was still in the air. Watching.

It ended, eventually. The first voice, slowly, brought her up again to eye level.

This time by her neck. His grip was hard and quickly left marks.

"Got anymore snark in ya?"

She didn't. She had blood.

"Tsk. That's right, _bitch_." He poked her side. A bruise was already forming, and the light touch was making her flinch. "And don't you forget, little dipshit. _Never_ forget your lesson.

"It's _Lord_ Azazel. Not _'daddy.'_ _**Lord.**_"

The first voice dropped her then. She fell, crumbling to the floor. She couldn't even roll herself into a ball.

Everything hurt. _Everything_ hurt.

But, amazingly, not once did she cry.

"Ahh, hope I don't get infected or nothin.'" He almost sounded concerned. Then he laughed. "Maybe I could cut out her tongue? No more spit then?"

"Would that even work?"

"Won't know till I try-"

"That's enough."

The third voice was calling out. The sound of a landing of feet was heard.

Raynare didn't dare open her eyes.

Through closed eyes, she saw a shadow over her. The third voice, she almost hoped.

She was right. He knelt beside her, looking her over carefully.

Bleeding, bruised, beaten, grievously injured.

His associates were severe and effective.

But it was now time for his part.

"You are _Raynare_. You are Fallen."

Lowering his head to the whimpering girl's ear, he whispered the words he'd been required to _personally _deliver.

He made his mouth into a snarl.

"You hold no value in this world. You, who have been spoiled since birth, know nothing. _Are. __**Nothing**__._" Her whimpering stopped. She was listening. "You are an infection to all that we have strived, starved, and hardened ourselves for. We have been since before the formation of nations and have changed the course of entire planets with our actions. We have survived the horrors of war and _earned_ the right to be here. You have not. You were born lucky and have earned nothing that has readily been given. You hold no place with us, because you are not us. You have nothing to offer, nothing to give, and nothing of value to show for yourself."

He pursed his lips hard.

"You are Raynare: the _unwanted_."

There was a pause before he stood.

Raynare had listened to it all. The silence was what she would remember above all else that day; the brief silence after.

How could silence hurt so much?

"Ha! Serves you right!" The first voice shouted, laughing as his partner moved away from her body. He wiped a fake tear from his eye.

Then another _brilliant _idea came to him.

"Hey-hey! One last thing-one last thing!" He lifted his arm up. In his hand, a pale green, sharp shaft of what looked like a knife came to his hands.

His grin behind his cowl was _evil_.

"I just want to ask one last little question to the class before we go."

Raynare could hear his steps slowly approaching her.

"How would you like if I pluck those pretty little wings of yours, hmm?"

He took one step closer. The step sounding almost like an earthquake going off in Raynare's mind.

She awakened then.

She jumped, twisted from her spot on the ground. She was scrambling. The threat to her wings – too much, _too much!_

She flew upwards. She didn't care where it led her, as long as it was away. Far away. Away from _them_.

She got maybe a hundred feet away. Her face was sweating, bleeding, bruised and with streams of tears fallen down her cheeks.

She was scared. Truly, _utterly_ scared.

She got three hundred feet in the air. Above some of the nearby buildings.

She turned her head to check for pursuers.

Instead, she saw the dagger of the first voice. Its green energy makeup was narrowing the distance between herself and it.

It was only by this brief turn back on her part that allowed her to twist herself around the projectile and avoid it's sharpened point.

It passed her by, getting a few meters ahead of her before exploding in viridian light.

* * *

_Present..._

It was a testament to the architects of the old church that they managed to build something that still managed to hold itself up after so many years. Though heavily covered in moss, molded, covered in vegetation and still managing to withstand years of natural weather occurrences, without outside assistance, the church was made to last, that was certain.

Doubly so when, even with the sudden impact of Raynare's body into the corner, it did little more than seem to shake up the loose dust in its cracks.

Her back hit hard, shaking the church's foundations further as untouched dust shook around. The gasp for air and shout of pain was the only indication that she was even still conscious.

Even as she dropped to the floor, falling to her knees and gasping for much needed breath, drops of sweat covering her face and forming slowly on her neck and shoulders, it did not seem she was going to give into the pain. She still held on, carefully, to her awakened form, pressing her arms to the ground and pushing her worn body from the hard wood floors.

The reason behind her ability to retain consciousness from such attacks was guessable. Maybe some pride as a Fallen, trained under the Fallen Leader Azazel, Lord Among the Fallen, remained. Perhaps it was the ever present healing of the Sacred Gear, Twilight Healing, which continued to give her energy and strength to continue fighting, despite the vicious blows dealt by her opponent. Or, for all that was known, it might have simply been Raynare – prideful and determined Raynare – who's very determination to achieve victory over the challenges in her life continued to push her forward against the _hero._

Whichever the reason, it seemed enough to spur the young woman forward; prevent her from giving up.

As she held herself up on all fours from the dust and dirt covered ground, Raynare's head lifted up to make eye contact with the blond.

_This won't…end here..._

The first thing the boy noticed in her eyes was the lack of prevalent _fear_ they once held. No doubt the fear was now overrun by traces of the prevalent anger, aggression and fury she held since their bout began, but there was something else now.

Motivation. Motivation that even overshadowed the rage.

_I won't..._

Even with the blood creeping down her chin or the (already healing) bruise on her cheek, she seemed to be growing a fire inside of herself that she lacked at the beginning. In most cases, he thought while watching her attempt to stand up from her crouched position, he might have applauded her resolve. The sheer attempt to continue fighting against someone like himself – intimidating and powerful, he had no trouble admitting he was – might have seemed inspirational, were she not the enemy and the murderer of the now dead nun, sitting a dozen meters behind him. It was this only thought that kept him from encouraging her resolve.

Though truthfully, he _did_ still need her to fight.

It was close: physical and energy levels were certainly lower than before but he still needed to push her further before he could end this conflict.

This would require a reaction out of her. A _strong_ reaction. Strong enough to be the final push to end this night.

_I refuse…_

But he was Naruto Uzumaki. Garnering desired reactions from friends, foes and strangers alike was something of a natural talent of his. And using words, above all, was most certainly his specialty.

And so, with plan in mind, Naruto straightened his form, eyeing her hostilely and brought a harsh smirk to his mouth.

"**Is that all? **_**Sorry**_**. Guess I was expecting something a bit **_**more**_** than a glorified **_**light show**_**.**"

And there it was; his words. He finally spoke – acknowledged her existence. And in response, he was given a _murderous stare_.

Raynare – grunting, sweating and with no small amount of evident fatigue – pushed herself to stand back on her own two feet. Her arms were sticky and the dust that fell over her shoulders stuck to her like tape. There might have been cobwebs, too, that tangled there was into her hair but she did not seem to care. The struggle, above all else, was the thing to push her forward.

_I refuse to…!_

Her back was hunched at first but slowly stood straight, offering an audible crack as it realigned itself comfortably. Her fingers were similar; squeezing them into fists with audible tension built into the joints, veins popping in her arms as they gripped tight.

She swallowed hard, her mouth dry and rough, then grit her teeth and offered a look, so vicious, it almost seemed to mirror the fanged hero.

She yelled–

"I REFUSE TO BE UNWANTED!"

–before taking to the sky.

* * *

_Washington, D.C., United States, Alleyway…_

_Raynare the Unwanted…_

"Do you see her? Do you see her?!"

"Did I _say_ I see her?"

"Oh, _shut it!_"

"No, _you_ shut it!"

"No, you!"

"You!"

"Oh, would you _both_ just be silent for once!"

_Raynare the Unwanted…_

"Ahhhh criminy, guys! I don't think she's here no more!"

"Well that's just perfect! Y-you just had to try and _blow her up_, didn't ya!"

"Hey, that wasn't my fault!"

"How do you figure, Mr. 'How would you like if I pluck those pretty little wings of yours'?"

"…Uh...umm…g-give me a minute to think of something not crappy…"

"Argh, _Wrathful_…"

_Raynare the Unwanted…_

"Enough. Come, what's done is done. If we don't depart soon-"

"'Someone's gonna see that big barrier in the sky'-yes, we know, _ma._ Sheesh! We're not entirely incompetent here!"

"Says the incompetent _fool_ who lost the girl."

"Now, see, why do you gotta be mean like that for?"

"_Silence!"_

"Ow!"

"_Ow! Jeez, _why you gotta hit so_ hard?"_

There was a sound like flapping wings, a shift in the air like something fast was moving through the area, with an unsettling silence following.

They were gone now.

Raynare wasn't sure how they missed her. Her space of hiding was the only available place to hide in that skinny, empty alley. A lone dumpster, 'conveniently' placed right at her point of landing, which just so happened to open just wide enough for her descending, injured, and extremely sore body to perform a crash-landing into; the panels closing shut with her harsh and ill-prepared entry.

_Raynare the Unwanted…_

The dumpster probably belonged to a restaurant of some sort; one that served _Italian_, if Raynare's possibly broken nose was serving her right, with a strong secondary smell that might have been alcohol, but she might have been mistaken (there was some laws against the selling of alcohol, after all). The thing was probably _covered_ in bacteria and germs, with flies and other buzzing insects a strong indication that certain sanitary procedures were not being met. She hoped it was only her imagination when she thought she felt the patter of hairy feet and body graze up her legs…or the squeaks and nibbling sounds that followed after…

It took her some time to realize just where she was after landing. Her ears were ringing after the explosion of the rogue Fallen's exploding dagger and the less than graceful reentry towards the earth. Her eyes had light specks that still burned every time she tried opening them to get a clear view of the garbage around her. Though her skin couldn't be burnt from any light-weapon produced explosions, the sudden push from the energy detonation was enough to disorient her sense of direction for some time. Even after regaining some of her bearings, thanks in part to the sudden shouting from the Fallen who attacked her, whose shouting awoke some of her fight-or-flight instinct and pumped enough adrenaline into her veins to waken up some of her dulled senses.

She was thankful her common sense hadn't been dulled. She might have leapt from her place of landing in fright had she not figured the idea of hiding was better than confronting three (semi) competent Fallen Warriors.

She was…lucky…

_Raynare the Unwanted…_

_Raynare the Unwanted…_

At least, that was what she thought at first.

Then came the memories. Through the darkness of the trash bin, she remembered. Remembered their words. Remembered their snarls. Remembered the kicks, hits and thrashings that came at the same time. The way they pulled her hair and threw her to the ground. The way their tones held such animosity, as if they were barely holding back silenced opinions.

Was she imagining it? No, the pain was real; their words must have been true.

Was it her father – no, _Lord Azazel_, who protected her this long? Did he know their feelings? Was that why he kept her in the castles? Moving around, away from Fallen society, never letting her out to the world? Was that the reason she only knew teachers, servants and affiliates of Azazel all her life? And for that matter, were the servants of his estates only pretending to appreciate her? Was it because of their pay? Had her f-_Lord_ ensured they would not voice such cruel opinions personally?

Had her Lord suppressed his own cruel thoughts from her?

But one question stood out amongst the rest swirling around in her mind. One that shouted-demanded-_begged_ for an answer that wouldn't readily be answered.

_Raynare the Unwanted…_

_Raynare the Unwanted…_

_Raynare the Unwanted…_

_**Raynare the Unwanted…**_

"…Am I not wanted?"

There was a sound like thunder outside her hidden place. Though she couldn't see it, the soft patter of rain slowly grew into a full torrent, followed quickly by an escalation in sound that announced the arrival of a significant storm.

The heavy rain, thunder and four walls of the dumpster dampened the sounds of crying coming from the alleyway…

* * *

_Present…_

The roof of the church had already fallen through after years of neglect and rainfall. It was open to the sky and, on that particular night, showed off a visibly pleasant full moon. The air was cool, the trees were swaying quietly with a night breeze and the stars, even against the city' lights, shone quite nicely up above. In most cases, this would have been a pleasant night for any late night situations, rendezvous or 'romantic escapades.'

But for Raynare, hovering a hundred feet in the air with wings outstretched and free from the closed confines of the church, it was open space perfect to separate herself and the boy.

She had Naruto's attention. This wasn't surprising – he never let his eyes wander from hers since they started their little bout, but a short while ago. Their fight couldn't have started but a few minutes before; ten at most.

Why did it feel longer?

She would admit, with reluctance, that the boy's presence bothered her. Though his stature, claws, and fang-like teeth certainly gave her pause to wonder just what kind of human could do such a bizarre transformation, it was his eyes that unsettled her the most. The unfeeling nature about them was most certainly inhuman and shouldn't have belonged to anything capable of sentience (but, _oh_, how she would have enjoyed plucking them out at that moment).

They followed her without fail and never let her out of their sight for more than a second.

And they were always focused on one thing: her eyes. Always her eyes.

Why? Why did they look at her like that? Why did she focus on his eyes so much in return?

Was it because it was the pair of things that stood out most prominently to her during the fight? Was it the way they never left her position or gave her chills down her back? Was it the unreadable nature behind them that was so different to the way she was instructed so many years ago in the ways of combat? To read your opponents' eyes and thus read the way they fought before they fought?

_But how do you read those? _She would wonder. _What ideas or thoughts or strategies do they give away?_

She did not know. There was only the piercing red. They might have seemed aggressive or angry to her, but that might have just been the overall presence of the blond. His narrowed expression, tense features and gritted teeth were the only indication of emotion that was identifiable. But beyond that, what was there to see? What lied behind the wall of his mind - thoughts, ideas, emotions, perceptions, clues or tactics? What was he thinking and what strategy could Raynare use to counter such brutal efficiency that was this _hero._

Against such animalistic efficiency and psychologically unnerving fighting, what was she to do?

And the answer came to her in four simple words.

_Fight fire with fire._

Brutality with brutality.

_Destructive force_ with _destructive force._

Her face was hardened then. Focus overcame fear and worry was replaced with temperament, placing all of her attention into the single point above her head. Her teeth grit harder than she could remember ever doing so from annoyance and strain; a small part of her wondering half-handedly if they would crack under the pressure.

Her arms trembled. They were tired, weak and overused now. Her constant attempts at forcing energy through them to channel the number of spears she'd used without time to rest, was now costing her precious reserves of energy and control over herself. Though the Sacred Gear residing within her was providing mystic energy that both healed and provided a deep well of power for her dispersal, it would seem her own stamina would not be quickly recovered from her stolen holy item.

But that did not matter now.

Working through pain and weary, she lifted her arms over her head, pointing them straight to the night sky; her palms were pointing upwards flat to the sky and stars.

She closed her eyes.

It took a moment to imagine her desire. To imagine the will of her energy out beyond her palms and into a form beyond her hold. She imagined the form, the creation and purpose. She delved deep into herself to think of its point, its potency and its density. The size – oh, _the size!_ – was the worst of it. The sheer height, weight, width and measure of what she was only first attempting in her life was only made possible on that night. Each atom of her imagined creation would threaten to _explode_ before its completion. The power was too much beyond her normal ability – screaming at her to stop and reconsider, but being refused each time.

She needed its dangerous levels of power. It would be the only chance she had.

She could see the image in her mind, now. She could see its dangerously unstable structure, barely being held together by will alone.

The image was set. It was time for its creation.

* * *

Neither Kiba, Koneko nor Akeno were especially familiar in the workings of Angelic energy. But this went without saying, of course; they _were_ Devils, after all.

But even without applicable knowledge, the way the energy surround the hovering Angel twisted, thickened and held a weight to it like gravity was pulling them towards its center was anything but reassuring.

Koneko, in her usual straightforward way, spoke her mind. "This won't end well."

At her side, Kiba silently agreed with that gross understatement before turning to his Queen with a look of increasing urgency. "Akeno, ideas?"

A contrast from her usually smiling expression, Akeno now looked thoroughly involved in the happenings between Naruto and the Fallen Angel. Throughout their little bout, she held her focus strictly on the two of them, almost forgetting she was in the company of her Peerage.

She turned her head briefly towards Kiba. She didn't say a word, just pursed her lips tightly before returning her gaze upwards to the Fallen.

Watching was all they could do.

* * *

"No…Raynare…you_ can't_…"

Mittelt began to shake. Her eyes were wide, staring up above the church. She'd managed to return a small bit of feeling back in her body to twist her head up towards the floating Angel.

But it would not be enough to outrun what was coming.

"Please…don't…"

The energy was too unstable. Its construct would break open from the impact with anything solid. And even if Mittelt were just to go off the growing light-based structure's size alone – a large, dark violet-colored sphere that was easily growing beyond the size of a small _car _– she had no doubts that the resulting release of energy would level the church, the surrounding area, and maybe a good few hundred feet in every direction around the point of impact.

She never imagined the young Fallen of Grigori could have the power, control or desperation to make something as impressively destructive as what she was witnessing. The Sacred Gear really must have been something impressive to even be able to believe she could accomplish this. It added to her power, as well as her _stupidity_, if she thought this last ditch effort to kill her opponent wouldn't also result in her immediate destruction.

This was borderline _suicide._

"She'll kill us…she'll kill us_ all!_"

* * *

Standing beside Mittelt, the teal-eyed beauty stared to her blond-haired friend.

He seemed utterly unfazed.

* * *

_Washington, D.C., United States, Mid 1932…_

"Are you sure you've checked all known possible locations? And I mean _all_ – Georgetown, the metro tunnels, the Potomac – _everywhere!_" There was a reply over the phone. "Well check them again! Rip open the Capital Building if you have to! And get in contact with Armaros again; see if maybe the CIA has noticed a weird girl walking around. Father knows they're sticklers when it comes to security and everything weird." More voices over the phone. "Are you sure _all_ restaurants were checked?" A murmur. "_Fine_. Meet back here if anything else develops. And don't forget to make regular rotations on scouts – last thing we need is for damned lightning to blast anyone out of the sky." He could see the American headlines already – 'Lightning Strikes Man with Angel Wings! Heaven Falling Over Washington?!' That would be a nightmare to cover up from any American news channel.

The other end of the phone responded with a positive, the line dying soon after. Azazel, after returning the candlestick telephone to its rightful place in the hotel room, was almost tempted to give it a nice toss out the window.

No word. None. No sightings, no information, no progress. For the last twelve hours, neither hint nor lick of information pertaining to a long, dark-haired girl in a gray-polka dotted dress could be found anywhere.

Azazel blamed himself. He should have seen the sign that something was wrong when she didn't show up immediately at the time for the start of the second portion of the day's meeting. He considered the idea that, because of the storm, she must have bunkered down to wait out the storm, and that shortly after, she would make her way back to the Grigori's headquarters. Though an Angel, even a Fallen, could not succumb to sickness or illness, it did not mean most enjoyed the feeling of being wet or soggy from outdoor weather conditions. Surely she must have been doing the logical, _smart_ thing and waiting for an opportune time for the storm to wane out.

Except she hadn't.

Then the idea occurred to him that she'd contact him if there was an issue. Though he told her Angelic abilities were prohibited, she was aware of the phone numbers to his personal office, his hotel suite and the headquarters' main lobby. Surely she would find some building, business, or at least a gracious household that would allow her to use a temporary line to contact himself or a representative to ensure that he was made aware of her current, hopefully positive, situation.

Except she hadn't.

It was going now on the twelfth hour of her non-availability. He'd contacted other lords, coordinated search groups and even called upon available human recourses in search of his ward. Azazel was sweating, aggravated and was_very_ tempted to go out and personally search for the girl. He could neither sense her presence nor her Angelic energy. Which meant either three things: either she was intentionally suppressing herself from his senses (which as far as he knew she wasn't educated in being able to do yet); her energy reserves were so low that they weren't able to be found by natural methods of searching (which could have been brought upon by fatigue, lack of substance or any manner of mentally afflicting conditions); or the third option, she was dead.

Azazel only grew more aggressive with these thoughts.

It was only Baraqiel, who sat quietly in a chair off to the side of the suite, near as tense as he, who managed to stop him in his foolhardy attempt at searching an entire city for one small teenager.

"We need to remain stationed here," Azazel's longtime friend offered council, "if the miss returns, we should be ready to receive her. If there is news of her whereabouts, we will receive them by telephone. If others believe you have gone missing as well," he left the implications of his departure open, Azazel reluctantly acknowledging his words and the consequences that would come if he were to leave.

And so he waited. And waited. And waited.

It was nearing midnight now.

At this point, Azazel was very tempted to _break_ D.C.

"_Baraqiel…!_"

"Patience, my lord, _patience_," the fellow Fallen Lord was urgently trying to prevent his friend from performing something rash and/or destructive. "Have faith in the legions. They will find her – I promise."

There was a silent pause for a moment, of which Baraqiel took as a silent acknowledgement from the Governor General that he would remain calm a little longer.

Instead, slowly, Azazel turned his head around, a look of no amusement plastered on his face. In fact, contrary to the usual, he looked downright _murderous_. "Baraqiel…you realize you're supposed to say…'they will find her_alive'_…right?"

The air in the suite seemed to be growing hotter all of a sudden. Baraqiel had the grace to look sheepish...and maybe even a little worried…

"Uh, well…you see, I thought…it-it should have gone without saying-"

_Click. Scree…_

The door to the hotel suite opened. The two lords responded with quick turns of the head towards the far wall of the room.

Raynare stood outside the room. Just stood there. She was covered in mud; in grime; in sticky materials and other unmentionables from her toes (which lacked a pair of shoes and socks) to her black hair (which looked like it had a wrapper tucked away in its folds). Her polka dotted dress was no better; taking the brunt of most of, to the best of the lords staring her way, whatever happened between midday to the present late-night hour. Its gray sowed material was not a brown or deep black, with even the dots being mostly blocked out and unintelligible. Her face appeared muddy, but after closer inspection, was bruised from her eyes to her _neck_.

It took a moment for even Azazel to register that _this_ was his daughter. That this…this…_distraught _young woman was his. That the usually bubbly, excitable and too full of energy young girl who always smiled in his presence was in front of him, looking absolutely ruined.

The young Fallen, in turn, didn't seem to notice her guardian even when he, in a small panic, rushed to her side, kneeling down to get closer to her eye level and trying to form words.

"Raynare! Raynare, how did-what did-where have you-what-WHAT?!" Azazel was shaking his head, using his arms to brush away some of the gunk on the young Fallen's precious face. It fell to the floor and looked ready to stain but the Lord of Fallen didn't care an inch. "Raynare? Raynare, look at me!" It took a moment, but her gaze did fall to his, though it seemed as if she were looking through him. "Wha-what happened? What happened, baby girl?"

Baby girl. A small nickname the old lord picked up from one of his estate servants, who affectionately referred to Raynare as such when she was still in diapers. It was a pet name of which he had no problem using either; he couldn't actually think of one himself that sounded better.

During her youth, he frequently referred to her by the name, which usually brought giggles to her because she enjoyed the sound of her little name so much. But, with the dreaded years of adolescence came a level of embarrassment to her. Any sort of nickname that didn't hold her approval usually received a fit, pout or tantrum from the youthful Fallen. According to her, she wanted to be seen as mature, developed and a proper Fallen Lady. Thus, she announced that she wished to be called by her full name from then on (though, Rayna was close enough that she didn't outright berate her guardian).

Though Azazel allowed himself to hold back on her old nickname (out of courtesy to the ringing in his ears that threatened to pop his eardrums), it seemed old habits died hard, especially in the present situation. The old name slipped out before he could stop himself.

He expected some sort of reaction from her. But all he received was a low, "I'm fine, d…Lord Azazel." Her eyes still didn't meet his still. In fact, the next second, she shook her way out of his touch and stepped away further into the hall. "I-I'm fine, Lord Azazel." She turned her head up and looked into the room. "B-_Lord_ Baraqiel." She greeted solemnly.

Baraqiel raised an eyebrow. _Lord?_ "Raynare," he returned, "is everything alright?"

She stared at him. "Yes." She said. "I'm fine." She repeated. "But…I'm dirty." She lifted her arms, signifying her less than dignified appearance. "I…I wish to wash." Her tone was dignified, proper, and stiff. Her expression was almost confused, looking between Azazel, who's expression was best described as shell shock, and Baraqiel, who to a lesser extent, matched his friend. "Might I, m-my lord?"

She was asking for permission to wash herself. She was referring to Azazel as 'my lord.' She wasn't smiling.

Azazel's eyes were looking her up and down, eying her as if she were an alien. "Raynare, _Raynare_, _listen_. T-the wash can wait." His hands reached out trying to hold her shoulders. The teen stepped away from his touch; shaking her head only the smallest amount. But the lords caught it. "_What happened, _Raynare? Who did…?" He gestured to her.

Raynare's eyes fell over herself.

"…I…I fell." A pause. "I fell hard. H-hurt myself." Her muddy hand went to her face, but stopped just short of touching herself. "I fell in mud. I'm fine now."

Azazel's mouth was gaping. She was in shock. "_Ray_-"

"_Lord Azazel_," Raynare spoke over him. "Please. Might I take a wash?" She was shaking her head light, looking almost dizzy. She swayed a little. "I…I feel _dirty_."

Azazel, who'd tried for the last minute to get eye contact with his ward unsuccessfully, stared at her dirtied expression.

At best, it was blank; lacking in everything similar to emotion.

At worst, she looked like she'd been brought back from the dead.

He didn't know what to say. He turned to Baraqiel. He didn't know what to say. His usually tough expression was a step away from completely _dumbfounded_. He stared back to Azazel and didn't seem to understand what to say either.

So, Azazel did what he thought was best. He nodded. "A-alright, then." He gave a few stiff nods, pursing his lips. His eyes were furrowed. "You-you get cleaned up and-and I'll get something made for you." He gave a harder nod. "An-anything you want, just name it and I'll have the hotel-"

"Thank you," she interrupted again, shaking her head even harder than before, "but…I'm tired, my lord." Her eyes were shifting between her feet in quick motions. "I think I'll just go to bed."

There were no more words exchanged. She stepped around Azazel, moving to the door, legs stiff and, now that the two lords had a better look at her bare feet, _bleeding_. Her visage was such a contrast to the sharp white and peach colored room that it was like watching an undead move through a living space. She dragged the filth and blood into the suite, making her way to the open door to the bathroom and closing the door quietly behind her.

* * *

The two lords stared at the doorway to the bathroom for some time. The quiet was almost ominous; Azazel expected a shout, a scream, crying or _something_ to disturb the unease that swirled around them.

He was still kneeling outside the suite. Baraqiel was at the doorway. They hadn't moved a step.

"My lord?" Baraqiel turned then, staring down to his friend. He'd never seen the gold-black haired look so…so…unsure. Unsure of what to do or what to say or what just happened.

He looked helpless.

Azazel didn't immediately acknowledge his friend. He was still just staring to the door. He lowered his gaze after a brief moment, looking at the floor where his daughter stood.

The mud and rain would stain the floor. The trash that fell off her could be picked up. The smell would fade or be dealt with by the hotel staff. He might have to pay a little extra to deal with the damages but he didn't care. That was money; he had plenty of it. More than plenty.

But money wasn't what concerned him about that spot on the floor.

The small thing sticking out from the slosh of mud, however, was something that caught his eye.

He picked it up. His hand moved to brush loose bits of dirt from it. Baraqiel couldn't see what had the Lord of Grigori's attention. He craned his head, trying to see what was being held so carefully, only to have it kept from his view.

He would have voiced his curiosity, only for Azazel to stand then.

He turned to Baraqiel. His expression was tense that made his old friend stand at attention.

Baraqiel hadn't seen such narrowed eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a frown that screamed displeasure since the beginning of the Great War.

The Lord of Fallen was in command.

"Send word to the lords. Call off the search parties. Tell them we found her." He stepped into the suite. "I want five men to be in this room at all times. I want two dozen outside in the hallway. Tell them to not move a _foot_ until I say otherwise." He went to the phone. "Tell Shemhazai to come in here and look after Raynare. Tell him _everything_ that's happened. Make sure she doesn't do anything-_Kokabiel_," he spoke into the device, "close down all routes out of Washington D.C. Anyone who attempts to get past your people, you have my permission to detain them. If they don't comply, you have _full_ authority to deal with them however you wish." That would make the old Wrathful happy. He could already hear a small giggling over the line. "Raynare has been found. Spread word to everyone you can. I'm spreading the word out here. Don't release the closed routes until I say otherwise." He dropped the line. "Baraqiel, you're with me. Complete the jobs then meet me at Grigori HQ. _Don't_ tell anyone but Shemhazai where we're going."

Azazel threw on his cloak, straightening the old fabric over his suit and made for the door.

Baraqiel stared at him. "Wait, Azazel," forgetting formality, he moved to the door as Azazel walked down the hotel's hallway towards the stairs, "what's going on? What's happening?"

Azazel stopped ten feet from the door. He waited a moment, thinking quickly, then nodded. "You deserve as much," he whispered, turning back to his friend. He lifted his hand up, showing off the item he'd produced from the spot of mud Raynare stood outside the suite.

Though dirtied and still covered in spots of mud, Baraqiel realized, with no small amount of astonishment, what was being held to him.

A feather. A _black_ feather.

"This doesn't belong to Raynare," Azazel told him, though his friend could see as much. Though feathers of Angels looked the same to many races, in the eyes of an Angel and Devil, there were _very_ distinctive tellings behind a Biblical race's wing contents.

Similar to a finger print that was readable, an Angel's feather was one's identity and DNA put together. And to the trained, an Angel could tell who's wing belonged to whom, so long as they were familiar with the wing content of the person they were examining.

As part of initiation into Grigori, a single feather was required as payment into their ranks. Many saw this as just a formality – feathers were easily grown back – but this was only half of the truth.

Azazel, strong in mind and memory, took the time through the years to memorize every initiate's feather design and makeup since the initiation of the organization. His mind was like a bank, with memories being tiny vaults to be opened with pieces of information presented to him.

This black feather was a key. It unlocked a part of his memory.

"I know whose feather this is."

He had a lead.

* * *

_Present…_

The energy above her head was now growing to the roughly the size of a car now. Its rounded form was shifting and changing with the surplus amounts of energy Raynare continued to pump into it. With each inch gained with the expansion of compressed energy, the more it seemed ready to release itself outwards in all directions. It threatened to shift in several different directions and forms, each which would threaten the integrity of the energy and perhaps set off, what Raynare dubbed, the 'light bomb.'

It was vibrating. It shined with a violet light, none-too-dissimilar to her spears.

And after a solid minute of pumping everything she could into its form, Raynare felt that _now_ was the time.

She turned her head down to the blond.

She would have smirked had every bit of willpower, every bit of focus she held not been focused on both her target and the energy construct above her head. He was so confident, so valiant – but this would be his end. He was foolish if he thought he could survive, in that human body, against something as magnificent and impressive as the bomb above her head.

He was a _fool_. An utter _fool_.

And this would be the end of him.

"Die."

Over the strain, her voice was little more than a whisper. The veins on her forehead were prevalent and her eyes were a step away from being downright _vicious._

"DIE!"

Her muscles tightened for only a moment as she threw her arms forward, following an arc downwards towards the church below.

"**DIIIIIIIIIEEEE!**"

The bomb followed her arms, sweeping around her and falling towards the church.

The area of impact: _Naruto_.

* * *

To his credit, Naruto appeared calm; awaiting his opponent's final attempt at finishing him off.

He originally expected something similar to another barrage of spears or perhaps even something of smaller, faster, but not as destructive in nature. A dagger of light, perhaps? Hundreds of them? Instead of strength, she'd opt for speed and overwhelming numbers instead?

No.

Turns out, the exact opposite was now happening. And despite appearances, contrary to his 'holding-ground' aura and hard expression, Naruto was actually a little surprised.

He wasn't an Angel. He wasn't a Devil. He wasn't a master manipulator of all forms of energy (being limited to one or two types in his life). But he would have had to have been a complete _idiot_ not to realize how much power was being put into the making of the sphere above Raynare's head.

If the big, swirling ball of purple wasn't a big enough clue, what would?

However, it only took someone of a common understanding around energy manipulation, formation and creation to see that whatever idea was forming in Raynare's head, it was dangerous and the energy above her was unstable. Naruto was familiar with destructive spheres of energy – another story of another life for another time – and understood that the way his Fallen opponent was going about the creation of her last attack would not only be destructive, but _self-_destructive.

This made the stakes a little bit higher to work with.

But, thankfully, a previous lifetime of energy manipulation and control was about to become very helpful.

"**DIIIIIIIIIEEEE!**"

Thankfully, the blond didn't need to wait long, as the Fallen Angel swung her arms down towards the church floor, the bomb following in direction before leaving her mental grip and flying towards the earth below.

Or, more specifically, towards Naruto's standing position.

This brought a silent smirk to his face. _Good,_ he thought, _I won't have to move around to catch it or anything_. It was only a hundred feet in the air and moving towards the earth at a good pace, aided by gravity and the force of Raynare's mental toss.

But to Naruto, it was almost _too_ slow.

Seven meters.

Six meters.

He raised his arms to the air. Not too unlike Raynare previously, he held his palms to the sky, head held up as the glow of the violet bomb closed the distance between itself and him.

Five meters.

Four meters.

He thought he might have heard a shout from his side. Kiba, maybe? Be careful? Run away? Naruto couldn't quite make it out.

Three meters.

Two meters.

He had the urge to itch his nose. He resisted it.

One meter.

Landing.

_BOOM._

* * *

There was a silence that filled the church for a moment. The happenings of what just occurred took some time to process for the members of the Gremory household.

Kiba could only stare at the blond. "…Whoa."

Akeno, breathing a little easier now, giggled. "That's our Naruto-chan!"

Koneko stared at the scene. "Never doubted it."

* * *

Mittelt couldn't believe her eyes. "He's human…he can't be…that's not _possible_."

* * *

The young woman with the blue-green eyes shook her head, bemused. "_Showoff._"

* * *

Naruto was actually forced to grit his teeth a little. His legs, curved at the knees, were actually _sinking_ into the wood floors, cracking them under the pressure of his latest physical task.

The task being: he caught the bomb.

Held up by a pair of lightly tanned arms, the violet sphere of energy was apprehended. His two hands held onto the violet glow of the energy, looking tense as they attempted to push back against the significant pressure that threatened to crush the area below the blond.

Overall, it was like lifting a big weight that fell from the sky. That threatened to explode.

Speaking of explosions, Naruto was surprised by how simple it actually turned out to be when it came to stabilizing the spherical energy within the Angel's attack. Through initial planning, he wondered attempting to manipulate the energy inside and slowly eviscerate it outwards, like releasing the air out of a balloon, would have been the best method of handling the situation. It was only after coming to an understanding that his knowledge of Angelic power would have been too limited. He couldn't have been certain his own knowledge of manipulating other, foreign forms of energy would compensate for something so above his paygrade of understanding.

So, scratching that idea, in the last moment between the bomb's touchdown and impact with Naruto's waiting arms, the blond came up with another, hopefully still successful plan.

Though un-seeable by anyone watching the blond perform what should have been an incredibly difficult, if not impossible, task, from Naruto's narrowed eyes, he could clearly see the small, hair-thin strands of reddish power coursing out from the space between his palms. His chakra – the inner energy source of his powers – was coursing around the outer shell of Raynare's last attack, spinning itself around the large projectile and solidifying the energy that threatened to burst the moment it landed into his arms. It was almost like a second container around the Fallen's energy; a cocoon around a very unstable power source. Naruto couldn't have been entirely sure his present form's power could have contained the energy the moment it impacted harshly with his hands.

There'd been no guarantee he could have spread his energy fast enough around the weaponized energy to prevent it from imploding.

He'd been lucky, in fact. Years of using his hands to create energy constructs from an inside source of almost limitless power was serving him well, even now.

But, he'd actually have to thank his sensei for this. It was only through his old (perverted) master's assistance that, for him, manipulating energy through the palms of his hands, especially something spherical and full of energy that threatened to explode into a swirl of energy that could rip people at a subatomic level –

Was_ child's play._

_Hey Raynare, _Naruto thought to himself, moving a free arm slowly away from the spherical energy, all the while still managing to balance it with a single hand still held above his head, and closing his now free hand into a fist.

_CATCH!_

_**POW!**_

* * *

Raynare hovered above, looking down to the church with interest.

For the last several seconds, her mind was a _blur_ of unsure questions.

Why was her bomb not doing what bombs did – _blow up?_ Why was it just sitting there (from her point of view), floating in air, waiting?

She could feel it still pushing towards the ground. An Angel usually possessed a certain mental connection with any and all constructs they created, so knowing that her massive energy ball was still attempting to land wasn't a doubt for her.

But a question that did cross her mind was why the sphere felt…off. Like something was holding the energy, itself. As if someone was cupping it, fully, with something she couldn't make out from the air.

_What the hell was going on down there?_

She wanted to make the effort to float down to the ground level. Perhaps her energy was more contained then she thought; instead of a bomb, she made a wrecking ball that _crushed_ her opponent to smithereens. But as it stood, what little energy she had left, Sacred Gear's included, had been _spent_ on that ball of destruction. What remained was only enough to keep her afloat in the air; if she even considered floating to the church floor, she might have just passed out from sheer exhaustion.

It was her will alone that seemed to be keeping her awake.

_**POW!**_

A sound like a gunshot rang blow. Raynare's eyes widened by the sound, thinking she was under attack from someone new, but then noticed something peculiar.

Her sphere was getting larger.

That was odd. She hadn't put more energy into it. She wasn't entirely she could have put more into it from so far –

_OH SHIT IT'S COMING AT ME!_

"_Ahhh!"_

She waved her arms forward. She wasn't sure why she made such an awkward movement mid-air; instinct took over, and like swimming, she tried to push arms away in a sweeping motion to move in a selected direction.

Raynare was by no means in the water, but she wasn't sure if her instinct would have given her the energy to dodge the incoming violet projectile heading towards her.

It turned out to be a well-placed move. Not a moment after making the move and managing somehow, barely, to push herself out of the way of the sphere's oncoming path, the bomb sped at a shocking speed above the church's roof. Then above Raynare. And then towards the night sky.

It continued up for some time. Gravity did not seem to affect it, as it slowly grew smaller and small and smaller as it widened the distance between Raynare and itself.

A second later, it was roughly the size of her fist to her eye. The next second, her finger. Soon after, it was smaller than her finger nail. And then, she couldn't even see it.

Up. Up. Up. Up.

Up. Up. Up.

Up…Up…

…Up…

…

…

…

…Boom.

"…"

Raynare could only stare into the sky. She barely heard it; like a distant firecracker, the 'boom' was barely heard. And the explosion? It barely looked like a weird, purplish star in the sky before fizzing out as quickly as it came.

"…"

All that effort. All that power. And it amounted to nothing more than a brief spark in the sky.

_What happened?_ She wondered to herself, ignoring the sweat falling down her brow. "Where did…how did he do-"

She stopped mid word, mouth agape.

_He. Him. Naruto. How did he…?_

She turned her head around, turning back to look down to the wooden floors of the church –

\- but instead, came face to face with _him_.

* * *

Naruto looked almost as if he were floating on air. He estimated the distance between himself and Raynare, considered how much energy he needed to jump the distance between them (didn't want to over jump), and made a quick leap towards the pigeon.

He got her attention. He met her eyes. She was sweating. Exhausted. She could probably barely keep herself in the air.

_Perfect._

He brought his arms over his head. He curled his fingers together, making them one big curled up fist.

Whatever might have been going through Raynare's mind (shock from her failed bomb, surprise from Naruto's hundred foot leap, whatever), she still had the defensive insight to understand what was about to happen.

She brought her arms over her head, taking the defensive as Naruto's arms came _crashing _down on her.

_WHUP-POOOW!_

* * *

The blow connected. She couldn't hold herself airborne any longer. She fell, taking the brunt of the blow's power but used up the last bit of focus she had on keeping herself over the church.

She fell. Fast. The weight of Naruto's crashing fists directing her body quickly towards the church's wooden floors below.

She screamed only for a moment. The ground came to her fast enough.

_BANG!_

* * *

"Arggh…agh…"

Whether by intent on Naruto's part or sheer luck, Raynare managed to avoid the sharpened edges of the church's worn roof, along with missing the several pews along the center of the building's aisle way. She landed less than gracefully into the spot where Naruto caught her sphere of energy before, landing directly at the center of the church's first floor and kicking up dust and chips of wood from impact.

She fell. She fell because of Naruto. And unlike before, she didn't land safely or without injury.

This irony was lost to her, however. She was in pain and shock.

Everything hurt.

But she was alive.

"Tsk…gahh…"

The fall had not been so high above as her first encounter with Naruto. While no doubt the collapse into the church's wooden floors would leave her sore for quite a long while, even now, with all her bruises, injuries and prevalent fatigue, the young Fallen was still managing to stay awake and _alive_ from it all.

Some might have said it was a miracle. Some would say it was God, still blessing his fallen child. Some would say it was the Sacred Gear, even with its lower than usual levels of power, that kept her life preserved.

To Naruto, however, it was just all _calculated._

"Ah…ahhh…"

Raynare still struggled to breath. The air had been so roughly knocked from her lungs that it made her dizzy and disoriented.

For a brief moment, even as she pulled herself up, she forgot where she was or what was happening.

There'd never been a recorded concussion by an Angel – Fallen or otherwise. They couldn't have one. It was, like many conditions, impossible for them to receive. They might get dizzy, disoriented but never concussed. Their minds just did not function like others.

But, if Raynare were to say anything the experience she was feeling at that moment, she believed she could say, at least briefly, that she felt what the humans felt when they hurt their heads.

"Ouch…"

She brought her hand up carefully to head, inspecting it for injuries whilst rubbing it from the _pounding_ headache she was receiving. Her eyes hurt, too, but closing them seemed to only help momentarily ease the pain. But she was aware to her condition and situation. As much as she wanted to, she could not simply close her eyes and hope this bad experience would be behind her. She was not out of danger yet.

She opened her eyes. Her head still hurt and would continue to hurt for awhile, but that didn't needed to assess herself.

She propped herself up from the floor. Her entire body disagreed with that swift action; pain in her ribs, digging soreness in her arms, and her head felt like a _sledgehammer_ took a swing at it.

But that wasn't what concerned her.

_He_ did.

She was in the center of the aisle. She turned to see the blond hero standing from a crouched position next to the entrance doors of the church. He'd fallen along with her, but with certainly less injury or strife. He stared at her prone form from across the aisle.

How powerless she looked. How weak. How _scared_.

He took a step towards her, his foot-drop echoing loudly in the quiet church.

Raynare tried to scream, then. She, on her hands and the soles of her feet, backed away further into the church and away from the closing blond. She tried to scramble to her feet but they gave out before she could even manage a sure footing, She was forced to crawl on her side, using her free leg and arms to scramble in the direction of the secret passage, down to the basement.

He was still getting closer. His steps echoed loudly in the church. His eyes glowed and his claws spoke ominously of what was about to happen.

She panicked more.

"N-n-no, _no! PLEASE! _S-show mercy_-you must!" _She tried to yell out to the blond, shaking her head frantically in a small, futile attempt at stopping him. _"_I_-_I_ beg of you, you, you CAN'T!"_

He didn't respond. Only continued to walk towards her.

He was halfway down the aisle. She was a quarter of the church away from him.

The expectation of what would occur when he got to her-

"Please just stop! Please!" Her tears were freely falling from her scrunched eyes. This was the time in the park, times _ten_. This was Washington, all over again, and without chance of escape. This was every day of her life,_shouting_ her failures as a Fallen into her face. "Please, _pleee-e-e-ease!"_

Her mix of scream and tears did nothing. They had no effect.

And now, she crawled as far as she could go.

Having crawled as far down the center aisle as possible from the blond, never letting her eyes leave his, lest he disappear and finish her off without even the courtesy of letting her see, what she was sure, was her _death_. She crawled and crawled right up to the few small steps leading to the where the altar previously stood. Raynare dared to look away to see she, indeed, could go no further without crawling of the stairs, and made an effort to position her body up so she could struggle further away from his coming form.

But it was useless. Her arms showed quickly they didn't hold the strength to hold her.

They buckled under her weight.

She sniffled at the realized futility of her weakened body, wanting to smack the stairs for their opposing state of being before remembering just what she was escaping from and turning her head quickly back around.

He was standing there. Again. Waiting and watching like he had so many times that night.

Her violet met his red again.

His were that of beasts. Hers, a princess.

* * *

…

…

…_What do I do now?_

_He's staring at me. Do I beg? Do I swallow my pride and __**beg**__?_

_Would he let me live? Doubt it. The whole point of this was to get back the Sacred Gear to the corpse. Whatever that'll do._

_Why would he even want to help her anyway? He doesn't know her. She doesn't know him. Why bother?_

_Is it because he thinks he's a hero? Is that it? For some stupid, moral reason? Was that it?_

These thoughts were making her flustered. But she never tore her eyes from his.

_Good guys never win. Doing good things never gets you far. Shouldn't he know that by now?_

_This isn't the world of superheroes – this is real life! There are no such things as good guys and bad guys! Just bad!_

_So what if what I did something 'not nice?' Do I need to die for it? Would that help anything, huh?! Two dead girls in a church?! Huh?!_

She shook her head, lip quivering and eyes watering.

_Does everything I do that's bad mean I have to die? Can only bad things happen to me and no one will get punished for it?_

_Do I have to suffer because of what I did? Must I __**always**__ suffer because of things I couldn't control?_

_My parents died, that wasn't my fault. I was taken in by Azazel – I didn't ask to have an easy childhood! To not have to suffer to have a nice place to grow up at!_

_I know I wasn't born in Heaven, but that doesn't mean I don't have feelings! I care, I strive to be the best I can be, and I want to help my people!_

_And…and…_

_And, oh __**lord,**__ please, please, PLEASE stop judging me with those eyes!_

She was crying on the outside. She lifted her hand to cover her eyes.

_No, no! Stop! You do not cry! __**I**__ never cry! I'm not supposed to cry!_

_I'm strong. I'm strong! I can take everything people throw at me and take it!_

_I will not cry! Crying is for weaklings! Dad-Lord Azazel wouldn't cry! He'd stand ready and fight, no matter what!_

_Could you take him, huh? Could you?!_

She was quivering outwardly.

_You think yourself so high and mighty to me? To pass judgement on me? You think yourself __**God**__?_

_Well you're not! You can't just say I made a mistake and-and-and __**kill**__ me for it!_

She choked on her breath at the thought of her death.

_You don't have the right! YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT!_

_So yes! I admit! I make mistakes – I, I MADE a mistake!_

_But that shouldn't be reason enough to kill me, right?_

_Right?_

_Right?!_

He didn't seem to acknowledge her thoughts. He just kept staring.

_Stop it. Stop staring!_

_I hate those eyes. Those bloody-red eyes._

_Just…stop. Please._

_Please, stop._

_Please. Please._

_Please._

_Please…_

…_Please…_

"_Please?"_

She was shaking her head. Her thoughts died down. Her tears were sliding down her cheeks in thick drops, smacking into her dirt covered knees.

Her face was covered in tears.

"_Please…please? Please don't kill me…I-I don't want to __**die**__."_

* * *

Naruto stared at her. He stared at her for a long moment. He gripped his hand tightly, feeling his nails dig past the skin enough to draw blood.

He rolled the blood into his palm. It was lathered on quickly; carefully making sure to have a significant amount over his palm before the wound, in an astonishing amount of speed of healing, erased itself from view. There wasn't even a mark or scar to be found.

His hand was warm and wet. He was ready.

He knelt to her side.

"I'm sorry."

He told her, bringing his blood covered hand back.

The blood glowed.

"But this _will_ hurt."

He threw it forward, fingers breaking skin and bone with an audible tearing noise that was only barely heard over the _scream._

"_**AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!**_"

* * *

_Kuoh Academy, Japan, One Month Ago…_

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH! Would somebody _please_ help me?!" Issei Hyoudou yelled frantically, running quickly through the wooded areas of Kuoh Academy, making great effort to keep one step ahead of the, rather fierce looking, females following quickly behind.

"Lecher!"

"Enemy of women!"

"You're _dead_, Hyoudou!"

"Your _insides_ are going to be your _outsides_ when I'm done with you!"

"WHY CAN'T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?!"

This particular 'running of the avenging females' seemed to be particularly large one that day. In Issei's attempts to escape the baseball team – his original peeping target – the young man somehow earned the attention of the female football _and _track teams, as well, along with small segments of additional female teams who were in the immediate area who noticed the female-chasing presence.

The young, breast-obsessed boy was now easily running from almost _half_ of the athletic female body and making a good show at avoiding their attempts at capture with narrow avoidance and well-timed leaps of faith. The chase had been going on for well into fifteen minutes now, with Issei neither seeming to be tiring from his constant running around the academy area, nor the teenage academy girls whom seemed to be incapable of coming any closer than a foot to catching their target.

It was a lengthy game of cat (angry, flustered, _furious_ Kuoh Academy girls) and mouse (perverted Issei Hyoudou).

_This_ is what irked Raynare to no limit.

_Oh, __**come on!**__ He's right there! There-THERE! Ahhhhh, you had him-YOU HAD HIM! How could you miss, he was right in front of you!_

_Coordinate! __**Coordinate**__! Plan ahead! Think of where he'd going to go and __**cut him off!**__ Stop trying to catch his scrawny ass by following him-IT'S NOT WORKING!_

_Wait for it…wait for it…yep. Missed him. Again. Big-f&amp;%king-surprise…_

From her place in the tree line of Kuoh Academy's small wooded area, Raynare let loose a rather loud groan of disapproval. The increasing number of unsuccessful attempts at capturing her designated 'protective-observation-target' was quickly beginning to eat away at the already displeased Fallen's patience. What with the female body's lack of tact or efficiency in capturing one stray _pervert_ was only matched by the increasing distaste at her first assignment under the command of Grigori.

Her job: regularly report on the physical, mental and psychological state of the Sacred Gear holder, Issei Hyoudou.

Despite her current opinion of the work she was volunteered for, at the beginning, Raynare had been admittedly _ecstatic_ for the chance given to her. By her knowledge, Sacred Gear users were _infamous_ amongst humans, Angels, Devil, monsters – everyone! Their level of destructive potential was far and widely known to just about everyone who were given familiar knowledge of human legends and myths and were, as a side note, made into prime candidates for any high class Devils looking for a powerful member to add to their, what they called, 'Devil's Peerage' and race.

"Devils were always looking for a leg up," was what Raynare would say sourly.

However, by the information given to her by her chain of command, it would seem that the Devils of the immediate city's area were, in fact,_ unaware_ of the boy's possession of something so rare and, potentially, valuable. That this meant the Fallen had the lead on gathering information on the boy. Information, Raynare herself, was to divulge to the Grigori's behest in grand amounts of detail.

In other words, this was a _huge_ job of equally large importance: to discover something of significance before any of the other Biblical Factions.

And this job was given to Raynare.

How she managed to receive such a task, especially as her first piece of work under the command of Grigori, was debatable, though with one large guess standing out from the others. No doubt her fath-_Lord _Azazel had something to do with her placing in such a prestigious and important place in Grigori's infrastructure – perhaps greasing the wheels of the organizations command structure to be placed somewhere of value and worth so that she would be given work that befitted her talents.

Admittedly, a part of her _was_ miffed at the prospect that she probably hadn't earned her position but rather was given it because of her parental connections. She refrained from complaining vocally, however. She was a woman now; no longer the child that waited on her father-_on_ _Lord Azazel_ to return safely from wherever and whenever he left to. She was a Proud Fallen Angel who was given the task of such immense importance that, dare she say it, could have led to something _huge _in the near future.

She could deal with a little unwanted assistance in getting where she was.

To Raynare, the work she was performing could lead to the discovery of whether this Sacred Gear holder – this 'Issei' – was a danger or not to the Grigori. History showed that Sacred Gear holders provided nothing but trouble through the Fallen ranks and she would be the first to discover the truth. To discover if Issei Hyoudou – based on her opinion and observations – was a risk. That by providing this information, maybe she would receive some form of recognition for discovering the previously unassuming threat to her people. To prevent further travesty from a human Gear User and save potential lives that would otherwise be lost.

She wondered if this was her first test; a test to see if she was really worthy for work in the ranks of the Grigori. That this challenge of Issei Hyoudou, in some bizarre way, was a manner of seeing just how she faired with the tasks handed to her by the chain of command. To see if her mindset – a mindset dedicated to the preservation and well-being of all Fallen – was truly there and not just some young girl's dream at hoping she could _play_ savior to her people.

To Raynare, this task would prove her worth and devotion.

She would be worthy, if only a little in the eyes of those who doubted her all those years ago.

Then, maybe, the echo of 'Raynare the Unwanted' would end…

But those hopeful thoughts at the start of her work had ended long ago. Whatever well of excitement or enthusiasm she originally held towards her information gathering on the human boy had long since dried out. The reasons were obvious: between the Hyoudou boy's loud proclamations towards wishing to grope a woman's body; to his none-to-stealthy attempts at peeping into all manner of school locations were girls would be at their skimpiest; to his outright non-embarrassed announcements to being an outright pervert (perhaps not uttering the exact word, but in context, he didn't seem to mind being a boy with an unhealthy obsession with breasts), Raynare, in the span of a few hours of her work, was hopelessly _disgusted_ with the boy.

What was wrong with him, she could only guess.

Was it the Gear? Sacred Gear Wielders were often influenced by the items in their possessions but this attitude of extreme perversion couldn't possibly have created by the Gear, could it?

Throughout history, most wielders of particularly potent or powerful Sacred Gears had been _monsters_ on and off the field of battle. This was just a dissolute young man with no aspirations beyond viewing naked women and pressing his fingers into their 'melons of wonderfulness,' to quote specifically.

Raynare would narrow her eyes at the mere thought of such depravity. 'Disgust' was too kind a word to describe the _loathing_ she felt for the boy.

Not even the Lustful Fallen were this…this…_bleggh._

She wanted to quit then. She wanted to leave this boy to his scummy work and never think about him again.

She even considered asking for a transfer soon into her work. She considered, but ignored her urge to quit. This was her work, her task, and she would be _damned _before she would give it up.

She believed herself destined to do great things for her fellow Fallen. She desired to do right by Grigori and help lead them to a brighter future. Her negative feelings towards those who saw her as nothing more than a worthless bag of feathers beside the Lord of Fallen aside, she loved her people and would see them brought to a golden age.

If she couldn't deal with one perv, how would she deal with any of the other hardships that would come?

She reminded herself of her duty: she would be reassigned before she made any attempt at moving beyond the _retch_ she was assigned to watch.

Or he would die; whichever came first. Human life was a short thing, after all.

Back to the present, with the reminder of her determination and task in mind, Raynare grit her teeth and roughly held herself to a branch at her side, continuing to watch the boy dodge his female classmates.

He had stamina, she'd give him that. But with every scream of panic, every narrow avoidance and every screaming female who yelled for his blood, Raynare was starting to think of an idea beyond the restrictions of her task. An idea, as a woman, she couldn't entirely be blamed for.

She'd seen it done a _dozen_ times alone this week; his invasion of the woman's facility peepholes. Each time it felt like an insult to herself and her gender. Had it been consensual, the Fallen would have given it no further thought. But to the boy, it almost seemed like the illegality and wrongness behind his actions is what made his work of peeping so much more enjoyable. Like the threat of being caught was what made this far more worthwhile.

With the knowledge of previous weeks in mind, Raynare understood that such an occurrence as the one she'd seen fifteen minutes ago would surely happen again, _three times_ as much as she'd already seen.

It was this knowledge in mind that spurred her next choice.

Reaching her free hand out to the side, the Fallen Angel narrowed her gaze at Issei's running form, manipulating a miniature bit of light into, what could only be called, a 'dagger' of light.

Her aim and thought of mind as she formed the energy into a small, throwable projectile was simple. Pierce the pervert's ankle, have the light disperse before it was actually registered as an attack on the boy, have him fall on the ground in pain and leave the rest of her work to the female body. It would seem like he tripped and was then given his dues by those he had wronged.

A very simple plan with a very enjoyable end result: Issei would get what was coming to him, the girls would get their wrongdoer and Raynare would get some small bit of revenge for all the times she was forced to stand back and watch as he conducted his wrongdoings without consequence.

Everybody (innocent) won.

_Poor Issei._ Raynare couldn't help the smirk that came to her cheeks, bringing her arm back with solid-light dagger in hand. _But you really should know: in this world, hell hath no fury like a woman's–_

"SHIT!"

_Crash!_

"Alright, he tripped!"

"Dogpile him!"

"Beat him to a pulp!"

"NO HAVE MERCY-AAAAHHHHH!"

From the middle of one of the academy's courtyards, screams, cries and quite a few cheers could be heard over the sound of thrown punches and kicks. Several dozen girls, each tired in their own degrees, were very eager to place divine righteousness onto their now captured perpetrator of perversion.

It all happened in the span of seconds.

From her point in the trees, all Raynare could do, with arm drawn back and dagger glistening in hand, was blink at the sheer coincidence of what had just occurred.

"…Huh…" She managed, watching the boy scream and shout, cursing his rotten luck for the pothole he had not seen (which, admittedly, neither had the Angel). She stared at the rough treatment being dealt out by the Kuoh Academy women. "…Okay then. That'll work."

She lowered her hand, the weaponized light breaking apart into a small flash before dissipating into nothing, leaving her once more in the shadow of the tree, watching over and leaving her 'job' to his torment.

It would be a lie to say that, despite the justice being dealt to Issei Hyoudou at that moment, a small part of the Raynare would admit to being disappointed that it was not she who was the deliverer of his punishment. That it was by chance of an anomaly in the schoolyard's flooring that dealt the boy's folly and not she herself.

Perhaps in a small way, Raynare believed that this would be her way of getting back at all the debauchery the boy had committed under her watch without being able to interfere. That this way, even though it wasn't allowed, she could feel some comfort from preventing his continued rudeness and truly devilish attitude to her fellow gender, at least once. You might even say she felt as if her moment to show the boy the cost of his wrongdoing was stolen from her by the random ground cavity.

This thought brought a frown to her usually gentle features.

"AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH-_MYPRECIOUS!_"

…Although, watching his 'punishment' being delivered by the school's insulted females did bring a small smile to her face.

* * *

_Abandoned Church, Lower Level, a few hours ago…_

Raynare was a bundle of giggles and excitement as she stood over the large basement of the forgotten church. Her face was a large smile and her eyes glistened intently as she went over every necessary step and procedure that would be required for the night's grand event.

She couldn't wait. If what the priest said was true, this night would be a _huge_ step towards her goals.

She could see it now, vividly: the recognition, the dreams realized, the respect and sense of worth, coupled with the prospect of a now grand future ahead of herself, unassisted by the Governor General –

_Oh, tonight is going to be wonderful!_

All those put downs, sleepless nights, and constant mental detriments that told her she would _never _be a true Fallen Angel of Grigori – they would all end tonight.

No more nightmares. No more bad thoughts. An unsure future was disappearing for a tomorrow that was brighter than she could have possibly hoped for.

And all it would cost was one nun's…

She stopped in her thoughts. Curiously, she turned her head around to look up to the mentioned blond young girl, looking at her downed expression was she hung tightly by iron chains above a makeshift shrine. Her hair was a mess and she looked as if she'd been dragged up to the top of the shrine. Her pearl-toned skin still shined by the torchlight, reflecting similarly to the rather, if Raynare were being honest, _nice_ looking dress some of the female rogue exorcists had outfitted her with.

Apparently, even those against the church felt ill about killing someone in a nun's outfit in a church.

So now, she was in a nice, pale dress.

Unsurprisingly, she didn't seem too pleased.

Raynare moved away from the edge of the shrine and over to the girl. She didn't say a thing – just stared at the unwavering blankness of the girl's face.

Was she accepting was going to happen? Was this her preparation? Did she realize how much _pain_ she would be in? Didn't she know what would happen to her by the end of the night?

Did she know? Did she know?

"…It doesn't matter."

She waved her hand a foot from the nun's face. Asia's eyes fluttered for a moment, before closing silently and without another look in Raynare's direction.

The Fallen Angel returned to her work. Her enthusiasm had dulled, a little…

* * *

_Present…_

The pain was about what one would expect to suddenly have an arm thrusted into one's chest. The fingers felt like they broke the skin, broke past bone and organs, reaching down deep inside her. She could feel them wiggling, moving around below the first layer of the skin.

After the first fifteen seconds of screaming, the pain finally dulled. She figured she must have been dead, then, but the constant awareness that the boy was digging through her skin was still there.

She was alive, thinking that death was allowing her to witness.

It was ironic, she thought. Thinking that all her doings and schemes that night were finally coming back to bite her in the ass (or chest, as it were presently).

Was this karma? Karma was a bitch, it seemed.

But thoughts aside from death, karma and what she deserved, after the first minute of being prone and unmoving to Naruto's inward grasp, a question popped into her head.

_His fingers…are…are they searching for something?_

Her thoughts quickly went to the idea that, whatever his fingers must have been digging for, it must have been for the Sacred Gear. But that couldn't be right. He knew what Sacred Gears were, right? Incorporeal objects held within the very soul of a human that manifested in several ways, based on will or physical intentions alone. The core of a Gear wasn't something that could naturally be grasped without extreme conditions or prepared circumstances.

The entire purpose of the ritual held below the church was to make the usually non-physical Sacred Gear held within the girl and make it into a tangible, holdable object.

The Gear was now in her soul. What the boy was doing now wasn't going to change-

"_Uh._"

She blanched.

_...What? What was-_

"Err."

Again, she squirmed in her spot.

She felt the fingers hit something inside her.

_What's going-_

"_Gahh_."

There was something there.

_What, what is he doing?_

His fingers hit that something again.

"Arrrgh!"

That one hurt a lot. But, whatever he was hitting, he almost had it.

She could _feel_ it.

Raynare lifted her dazed head upwards to look at the blond. His eyes, for once, were focused on something besides her eyes. His arm was twisting in different directions and, now that she was looking at it a little more clearly, was _far_ deeper inside her then just reaching inside her chest.

She stared down to where the arm was.

Instead of a gaping, bleeding, protruding hole in her chest, there was, instead, a hole of violet light projecting outwards, with the hole being mostly filled with the blonds arm digging inside her.

She was about to panic. About to _scream._

Then a hand fell to her shoulder.

"Don't worry."

Raynare lifted her head from her light-producing chest. Her eyes must have been wide, because she had a clear view of Naruto's entire face.

"Just remain calm. I'm going to be careful, I promise."

His eyes were still red. They were still slit and inhuman. But the expression around them never seemed so relaxed as they were that moment. His focus was on his arm in her chest, but his face was so much softer looking then she'd ever seen it that night

His face had never been so close to hers.

"I need you to promise me you will relax and remain calm." His free hand squeezed her shoulder. He was trying to calm her. She didn't immediately respond to his words until his lip twitched. "Please. Trust me. I'm here to help you."

He smiled to her, his fangs extending out. So close was that smile, so kind. It was so _weird_ to see it with the blood-eyes.

Like a monster smiling down to a meal, most would be unnerved and disturbed by everything that was happening.

She should have been jumping, screaming, crying and begging to stop whatever she was sure was going to cause her another immense amount of pain.

She wanted to, but didn't. She paused, only for a moment, before to her own surprise, realized she was not unnerved.

She swallowed hard. "Okay." She nodded but couldn't form any other words. Her throat was dry and felt like sandpaper was waxing it smoothly.

She wanted to cry more. She truly did. She wanted to scream, smack the smiling boy and call him a list of profuse names, inappropriate even for a Fallen Angel.

But she couldn't. Or rather, she didn't.

She just nodded, calmly, smoothly and making sure not to move too much. She did not want to potentially cause an issue with this process. She just…just wanted, whatever this was, to be _over_.

So, turning her head down, she returned her attention back to the hole in her chest.

She dared not meet his gaze again, for fear she'd lose her nerve.

Naruto, in turn, put his full attention back to the arm in her chest. He could feel it, the rough edges. He almost had it. He had to be slow, precise in his grip and careful.

One false move and the Sacred Gear would _break._

And he'd not only lose Asia.

He fumbled his fingers over the object, just out of reach of his grip. He ignored the Angel's grunts and groans and continued to push the object back and forth in his fingers. He needed it to be just _right_; not to left in his grip, not to right. He couldn't hold it too tightly that it would break, nor too lightly that it would slip from the pull out.

This. This was _hard._

And now, going into the third minute of his fingers in her chest, with Raynare holding back shaking and tears, Naruto's eyes widened as his hand fumbled on the small, almost dangling object.

It landed into the palm of his hand. He grabbed it.

And Raynare knew this too.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

She must have wanted to die. She almost wanted to, she'd admit. But he wouldn't let her.

His grip was good. He had his object. He twisted his arm back around and like a key being put just right in a lock, shot his arm out of the glowing circle in Raynare's chest.

The circle closed on itself. The skin under Raynare's glowing circle opening was gone, leaving not a singe or mark to be found. It was as if the last few minutes hadn't happened.

She looked, and even felt, fine.

_What…what was…what just happened?_

From Naruto's point, he was down on his knees, sweating just as much as the Fallen Angel, and looking down calmly to the arm he so effortlessly thrust into…whatever it was that was opening in her chest. The arm, generally, appeared fine. No marks or anything that suggested pain or agony from his actions. His hand, however, was actually _steaming_, as the blood that once covered his palm looked as if it had _evaporated_ into thin air.

The steam made it seem as if it was a painful experience.

But that didn't matter. Not even a little. In place of blood, to the blond's wonder and growing sense of joy, was a familiar glowing green orb.

He actually chuckled then. He could almost _kiss_ the damn thing.

So much trouble for it. And it hadn't even been a half an hour since it was taken out of its original owner.

How time flied.

"Phew! Whew-wee! That…_that_ was an ordeal!" Naruto laughed loudly, cheerfully, standing up from the dusty ground, looking over his victor's prize with great enthusiasm. It was perfect. No scratches, no damage – nothing. A perfect extraction. And it was, actually, partially thanks to Raynare. "Heh. That was great. I really need to thank you for the help – it came out perfectly!"

"H…_huh?_" Raynare, catching her breath, stared up to the blond who had_ way_ too much energy. She hadn't a clue what was going on.

And Naruto didn't seem to notice her confusion, staring into the glowing sphere of the energy emanating from the Sacred Gear. "Oh, and don't worry about the whole 'dying' thing. We worked so well together, you shouldn't have _any_ negative effects from this little extraction trick." He looked to mostly be talking to himself. "You did perfect. Couldn't have done this without you."

Raynare took in his words. She looked to his face then to the green orb in his hands. She recognized it almost instantly. "T-the Gear." She swallowed hard. Her voice was still raspy.

"Hmm?" Naruto blinked, finally turning his attention back to the Fallen youth. "Oh. Right. This," he lifted Twilight Healing up, giving her a good view of it, "yeah, guess I didn't really explain what I was doing, huh?" He scratched his chin sheepishly. That wouldn't do. But how exactly to explain a trick you learned from a previous life to someone who was completely dumbfounded with everything that was happening? "Hmm…well, simply, I reached into your soul, picked this up, and pulled it out without killing you." He waved the Gear to her stunned, wide-eyed expression. "But to get into your soul, I first had to beat you down physically, mentally and get rid of all that pesky Angelic energy that would have made getting this," he waved the Gear again, "very_, very hard_."

A little pain, a little exhaustion, a little mental breakage, a little blood covered hand – bada bing, one true way to reach into someone's soul (do not attempt without reading the guidance manual, given proper guidance or have a professional in the vicinity).

Throughout his description of what he did – what he did to her – she almost doubted she heard him right. "You…you stole it from me."

All that effort…all that effort for it…gone?

Her accusation surprised him. "Uh, well, I mean, yeah, but you kinda stole it first, didn't you?" Despite pointing out the truth, he looked sheepish. "I mean, I _did_ say I was going to get it back to Asia, remember? And I _did_ do it without killing you or anything – that's a plus." She would be sore for a few days after this, even with Angelic enhanced healing, but that was better than death, right? A little pain over 'the permanent sleep,' right? She should have been thanking him for that.

But she wasn't. She wouldn't be. She would do no such thing.

He took it from her. He took her prize. He took the thing that would give her place, purpose and worth. He took it and left her with…what? The hope that things would get better? That those around her would acknowledge her, not because of who raised her, but because of her own capabilities? That she would one day, possibly, maybe, _doubtfully_ lose the title of unwanted?

Because that's what he left her. A life of being unwanted. He left her with nothing and was _smiling_.

_I hate this…I hate it…I…I…_

* * *

"…I just…I hate it…I hate this life."

Naruto heard the whisper, stopping in the aisle.

"I hate this life. I HATE IT!"

He turned around to the sudden shout. Raynare had rolled herself into a ball, holding her legs tightly to herself as she leaned against the small stairs which lead to where the altar of the church, now moved to the side by Naruto, roughly stood.

"This isn't fair! It isn't! I hate this so much!" She sniffled into her legs. "I hate it all. It isn't fair. It isn't fair it isn't fair it isn't…"

She was shaking her head into her legs. The weight of the last hour's mental, physical and psychological strife was catching up to her now.

She wasn't prepared for it. And now, it was taking its toll.

Naruto stared at her for a moment. Just…stared, at the Fallen Angel. That crying, almost pitiful person whom he, if she hadn't tried to actively kill him not a couple minutes prior, might have had some serious sympathy towards.

He juggled the glowing green Gear in his hand.

He stared at the Angel. Then to the unmoving Asia. Then back to the Angel.

The crying, injured, troubled Angel.

…_Crap._

He sighed loudly.

Being the good guy _sucked._

"Hey, uh, listen," Naruto spoke up, turning around in the direction of the Angel, getting said Angel's attention, "you, uh…you want me to give you some advice?"

She lifted her head briefly. A snarl on her face. "No! Go away! I **hate** you!"

She went back to crying.

Naruto pursed his lips. "…Alright, new approach then;" he knelt down, "you're going to sit there, listen to what I have to say, and SHUT UP!"

Raynare lifted her head then. It might have been the sudden scream or the fact that someone actually told her to 'shut up' in her life.

Whether that was the blond's intention or not, Raynare's attention was strictly to him.

He hoped he didn't blow it.

"Alright…you just got your beat by a human. Worse, a human allied with _Devils_. And from the way you're acting, I'm going out on a limb to say you're feeling like _crap_ with that thought in mind, right?" She didn't respond. That was fine, he had more to say anyway. "Probably got the idea that Angels are supposed to be the top of the food chain, right? That we 'lowly humans' aren't strong enough to take someone like you and win?" He stared at her expression. No change. "Or maybe it's more personal than just losing to me; maybe you just never don't want to be seen as weak, hmm? Are you afraid people will put you down if you ever look less than your best?" There was a small movement in her lip's corner. He smiled. "Yeah, that's the one."

He almost felt like laughing, moving down into a sitting position across from the Angel. His whole expression, from Raynare's view, was a sharp contrast from how it was ten minutes ago. He was human again. "How are you feeling right now?"

He asked her an honest question. She didn't like having someone play psychoanalyst with her and was strongly against answering his _mediocre _question.

But the words came out before she could stop them. "Like shit," she admitted, "_worse_ than shit."

His smile grew a little. "Why's that?"

_As if he doesn't know._ His smile was starting to piss her off (she almost missed the glaring). "Because you beat me. Because I _lost_."

To that, the Uzumaki raised an eyebrow. "And that's…bad?"

The look she gave him was similar to 'uh-_duh_.'

So he cocked his head to the side. "But why?" He asked her, honestly. "Why's that a bad thing? Why's it bad to lose to someone stronger then you?" Raynare tried to come up with a smartass answer, but Naruto kept on talking. "Is it because you're afraid someone will laugh at you for admitting it? Somebody was stronger than you – _big whoop!_ I've had my ass handed to me _hundreds _of times in my life! And you know why? Because in most cases, there probably _will_ be someone stronger then you." That was an honest truth for both of them (although Raynare's example was actually talking her down at that moment). "Don't let people judge you for losing. Why should their opinion matter to you? Why should you care for people who laugh at you when you fail?"

He felt very old with that last line. In his youth (way-past youth), he would have just told her to 'f&amp;$k them' or 'beat the snot out of them and teach 'em who's boss.'

But that was the old (young?) him. The Fallen Angel needed guidance, not a guide to more violence.

_Easy for you to say_, Raynare thought, grumbling. She had her own opinion to his words. "And what would you know about being ridiculed, huh? You're strong. Really, _really_ strong. You don't have a _clue_ what I feel right now."

The weakness, the personal torment – how could he have felt what she felt?

He was strong – _way_ strong. Too strong. What could he have _possibly_ understood about being weak?

Her immediate belief was that he knew nothing. So it surprised her, after a brief pause for thought, when Naruto raised his head to her and let out a chuckle.

"…I have more of an idea about what you're going through…then you could _possibly_ imagine."

He could have been just like her. He saw it in her eyes, heard it from Dohnaseek and Raynare's mouths. He knew, at least a little, of her story.

Her need for recognition, acceptance, and to not feel like he was unimportant – he could relate. He could relate to the overwhelming need to be recognized and noticed. He'd do so many stupid jokes and insults and yell as loud as he could, if only so people would look at him. Was that how she was? What exactly stopped him from going down a path similar to her? Where power equaled right and approval? What stopped him from becoming someone who could have hurt others to get further in life?

Friends? Teachers? People who cared about him? Raynare had all those things but still took a different direction in life.

What stopped him from being just like her?

He shook these thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time to consider the philosophical 'what-might-have-been.' He had Raynare's attention. He needed to keep it. "Look, my point about this is…when you're pushed down by the people around you – the ones who say you aren't good enough – you know what you gotta do? _You prove them wrong._ You do what they say you couldn't. You earn the right to say you are better than what they make you out to be.

"There will be hardships and plenty of sacrifices along the way. You are going to feel like _shit_ when you fail and beat yourself up when you let someone down. And when people push you down and say you aren't good enough? Believe me, that's worse than hell." His smile turned solemn for a second. Raynare caught it, her expression slowly changing from the scrunched up tearfulness to something, perhaps not relaxed but certainly not as strained as before.

Now, she was actually listening.

"But those sufferings will make you appreciate the good of your life so much more." Naruto continued. "And even if you haven't found that thing that makes you wake up smiling, don't worry, because you will. I know it. I _know _there's good in you. Corny as that might sound, you are _better_ than where you've put yourself at tonight. You don't need some Sacred Gear to make you strong. Sacrificing the lives of anyone in your path isn't the way of true power. That idealism – it isn't _you_. This is someone I think you _know_ you don't want to be."

He paused again, turning his eyes to the Sacred Gear in his hand. He juggled it once before standing over Raynare.

He offered her a smile. "Now, who knows? I could be wrong." He admitted. "Maybe this is what you truly want; to kill anyone who so much as looks at you funny. There are people like that, like _Freed Sellzen_, and if you're one of them, I can't change that about you. No one can." He moved his arm forward, hand outstretched in offering. The Fallen stared at it. "But even after all this; I still believe that there is some good in you. That who you are isn't identified by what others say or judge you by. It's about the choices you make and the way you want people to see you – not just as an Angel or a Fallen Angel or whatever. But as who you are, _Raynare_."

He emphasized her name. Raynare was somewhat taken aback by the combination of his charming, bright smile, words and the actual use of her name.

He'd never actually used her name before. It was always 'pigeon,' 'Fallen,' or 'Fallen Angel.'

Never Raynare.

It was weird, now, being called that. Being told that her name was what should have mattered to her, not the self-identity formed by those around her.

She was Raynare, but what did Raynare mean to her? That was the question.

The answer was, if only receiving a hint from the 'blond hero's' smile and words, something good?

Maybe?

She wanted it to believe that – she really did – but…

She turned her gaze away from his for a moment, looking to the side wall of the church, away from his hand or _stupid_ smiling face.

She wasn't staring at anything in particular. She just couldn't look at him then.

Maybe if she ignored him for long, he'd leave. Yeah, that would show him. If his resolve to hold out his hand to her was shorter than her willingness to look away, then she was right and his words were bogus then and she didn't have to do a damn thing he said!

…She waited five seconds before realizing just how _childish_ that sounded.

She was flushed, embarrassed, turning her head back to his outstretched hand and looking it over.

No dagger-claws, no aura of power, no ill-intent.

She waited a moment. Then two. Then three. Then four. She tried to think of some excuse to not accept his help: her body was tired, her hands were dirty, _his _hands were dirty, she didn't deserve to touch him, _he_ didn't deserve to touch _her,_ and so on. It was her prideful nature and need to believe she could still do things on her own that gave her hesitance. Heck, it was pride that made her not wish to reach out for the boy's outstretched, non-threatening hand.

How could she, Raynare, relent in the face of a nice smile and an offered hand? What would people think of her if she yielded to this superior opponent? How would this look upon her?

Then she remembered the words.

_Don't let people judge you for losing._

_Why should their opinion matter to you?_

_Why should you care for people who laugh at you when you fail?_

_**You are **__**Raynare**_**.**

Her lips pursed tightly. Her eyes shook as they went between the blond's still _stupid, smiling face_ and his generous hand. The words were ringing through her head now – coming off as almost addicting to listen to.

She liked the sound of them. She liked the moment in front of her. She really did.

That scared her a little.

Her hand hesitated for a moment as it slowly reached out to the blond's. It reached out, but pulled back in. Attempted to reach out a little further, then was pulled back to her chest.

It took her another couple seconds, steeling her nerves, making sure her eyes met his ruby-red and did not flinch from his gaze.

Third time was the charm.

* * *

Mittelt watched them. Watched everything. Watched the fight, the struggle, the chaos of it all –

Mittelt watched it all.

She would not soon forget this night. Not ever. Not as long as she lived.

"Wow." She voiced out, seeing Naruto's offered hand accepted by Raynare. Her entire appearance was a downright _mess_. She looked ready to collapse and seemed as if it was only by the blond's offered hand that kept her upright.

Even after seeing all that had transpired, Mittelt still could hardly believe it.

Just…just…_wow._

Beside her, the Angel's uninvited associate giggled. She was looking down at the Fallen's expression with obvious enjoyment. "Yes, I believe 'wow' aptly describes my friend, now doesn't it." She giggled a little louder, brushing her fingers through a long flow scarlet before crossing her arms under her, to Mittelt's jealous admittance, _sizable_ chest. "But, now that this little show is over, I believe it is time for you and your _ilk_ to go on your way now, hmm?"

Mittelt stared away from the blond and Raynare, seeing them talk in small whispers at the center of the church over matters she couldn't hear from her position, and up towards the red girl.

Her smile turned predatory. "I hope you haven't forgotten that we _are_ enemies. If it weren't for my friend over there, I would have no quarrels stomping the life from your eyes this very moment." She lifted the slender hand she passed through her hair a moment before, showing off a small demonstration of her power as a swirl of black energy twisted around her fingers. The threat was obvious. "Leave. Now. And know that if we do see each other again, I will most _certainly_ finish what Naruto started."

The Devil girl said no more. She took a step forward into the church and left Mittelt alone to herself.

The Fallen didn't need to be told twice. Glancing past the red-head, she saw Naruto place another hand onto Raynare's shoulder, offering a small smile to her injured form.

Mittelt was surprised when, even from her view at the edge of the church, she noticed Raynare turn her head away and smile too.

_Oh, I __**wish**__ I could hear what they were saying!_ She thought to herself, only to see no more words exchanged between Fallen and human, as Raynare, noticing the approaching red Devil, stepped away from the blond, making no further acknowledgment to him, and released her wings.

Her ascent was slow and looked quite pained. But she flew, slowly, into the night sky.

Mittelt, still unsettlingly sore, hobbled after the young Fallen, through the forests towards the city.

Her last thoughts of that night: she could use a drink.

* * *

Naruto followed the Fallen Angel as she went skyward. Indeed, it looked like it would be a rough ride to wherever she was headed (though he had a guess where), but he was confident she would survive the trip. And after soundly ripping her a new one (in more ways than one), he'd grown confident in her endurance and ability to take duress like a champ.

She was tough cookie. And beneath all that aggressive attitude, he was sure there was a good kid somewhere. She just needed to realize that herself.

Looking away from the broken roof where the Fallen took off from, Naruto turned around to see the a familiar pair of long legs, crimson hair and striking bluish-green eyes approaching him from the entrance doors of the church.

He would be lying if he said he was surprised by her presence. Between naturally knowing just the kind of woman Rias Gremory was, and having his senses _peaked_ during his fight with Raynare, Naruto would have had to been _intentionally_ shutting down his advanced sight, hearing, smelling, and even touch not to have noticed she was there.

But now, with all threats gone or disposed of (he could smell corpses coming from the altar's secret passage way), the former Hokage allowed himself to relax; his eyes returning quickly to a normal blue while his animalistic features dulled or lost their aggressiveness they held before.

Now with the danger gone, Naruto was back to normal. "Enjoy the show, _Rias-chan?_"

Smirking her full lips in a way that seemed to add to the regalness of her appearance, the heir to the Gremory house offered a small clap to the blond. "All hail Naruto-kun; the conquering hero against the Fallen Angels and _quite_ the showman on this little 'battlefield of church,' if I do say so myself." She might have been toying with him. Sometimes it was hard to tell; many a Gremory were known for their dry wit and playful tones. Whether she was praising him or not was a guessable matter entirely.

But, as it stood, Naruto was frequently one of the targets of Rias's playfulness, which often, like presently, brought a roll of his eyes to his 'aunt.' "Thank you, you're too kind," he replied, tone thick with sarcasm in its rawest form, "glad I could make this _so_ entertaining for you. But you know, with that bomb of hers, she could have killed us all if I hadn't stopped it."

"I was aware, I admit." She said truthfully. Behind her beauty lied a quite prevalent mind for tactics, strategy and information. "But I was fully confident in your abilities and your instinct in handling the situation without fail."

"Really?" Naruto asked, cocking his head to the side, eyes wandering to where the altar previously stood. "And what did you guys think of my little show?"

He knew they were there. Koneko, Kiba, Akeno; they did little to hide their presence from him as they stepped out of the secret basement passage and out into the open.

Naturally, Koneko was the first to voice her opinion of the fight with her usual lack of emotion. "I would have hit her more. But that's just me."

Kiba laughed at her side. "It was _very_ impressive, Naruto."

Akeno looked pleased, smiling. "It was very _hot_, if you ask me."

Not sure really how to take some of those reviews, Naruto just nodded appreciatively before returning his gaze to Rias.

He hardened his eyes. It was time to finish the night.

"Rias, I have a request," Naruto's tone took a turn in formality, his features matching his tone and sounded somewhat like how a knight would address a queen or king. It was very similar to how Kiba's usual tone sounded like when he was alone with his friends and Peerage, in fact. It stood out the most when Naruto used it so suddenly.

But no one was entirely surprised. They all guessed what was coming, what with Naruto's hand still holding onto the glowing green sphere.

But Rias was willing to play along. "A request?" She repeated, still smirking. "And what, pray tell, does the conquering hero have a request for?"

He lifted his free arm, pointing to the still, pale girl at the corner of the room, wearing his jacket over top herself. "I request," he paused, briefly, "I request she be made into a…a _member_ of your Peerage." He fumbled with the words. He was about to say 'Servant.' The word still left a taste in his mouth, at least in the context of what it meant when people said it in the Underworld.

He was thankful, though, that Rias decided not to, again, call him on his reluctance to a single word use. Instead, she turned to the girl, laying quietly on the one of the church's still standing pews.

Like Snow White, she was waiting to be awakened.

She turned back to Naruto, looking at his hand. She held out her own.

"Do you mind?" She asked, quickly receiving a quick shake of the blond's head as he handed her, carefully, the glowing sphere of Twilight Healing.

She looked it over, inquisitively. While by no means an expert on the power behind a Sacred Gear, she _was_ the heir to one of the most prominent households in the Underworld. Her knowledge around just about everything there was to consider in Heaven, the Underworld and the worlds in between was something to be astonished by.

So, looking over the God-given object, evaluating its abilities, potential, and the way Naruto watched her, anxiously, Rias was able to quickly make up her mind.

But first, she had to be certain. "Are you _sure_ about this?" She asked her adopted nephew, eyeing him carefully. "If I do this, there isn't any going back. She's a Devil, through and through, _and_ a nun." She held up the Sacred Gear to him. "Are you willing to allow this? I will make her a _member_ of my Peerage, but _only_ if you want it."

The implications of what was about to happen were not lost to him. He understood what would happen, what could happen, and made his choice the moment he ushered the challenge to the Angel.

He understood and would accept the responsibility.

"She said she had only one regret," he spoke aloud, catching Rias's attention, "she met a boy. A boy who made her smile." The corner of his lip quirked upwards a little. "He thought she was cool. Brought her to an arcade. Heh, won her a _toy_." He laughed silently, shaking his head in amusement. He felt old again. Old in a teenage body. How long had it been since that occurred? "She wanted to live for him. She wanted to _live_ to see him.

"So…I say we should, at least, give her the chance to do so."

* * *

They really were beautiful; Twilight Healing. Its constant, harmonious glow that emanated from its transparent sphere was calming and relaxing to view; even better to feel. They were never meant to be used as an energy source to power weapons or an attack of some sort. Their purpose was, since their creation millennia ago, to heal the hurt, sick and downtrodden. To not judge who they helped, so long as those that were helped were done so, not for personal gain, but for the benefit of everyone and everything.

It was one of the nicer Sacred Gears made. Asia was perfect for them.

And she would be perfect for them still.

The process for creating a new Devil was not horribly complex. In fact, it was downright easy in practice, if maybe tiring to have one's Peerage King forcibly extract a bit of his or her own soul to solidify the binding of a Devil's new life. Though the technical terms and situation for all the biological changes that rapidly occurred during the transformation into a Devil need not be discussed, know that, despite the lack of outward change at the end of the Peerage ritual, inwardly, a Devil _was_ born.

And that was what was happening now. A Devil was being born.

Naruto had carefully placed Asia's cold corpse smoothly to the ground, gentle, even then. He allowed his jacket to remain atop of her; it would not affect the end result of the ritual, but it might have kept her warm afterwards (it was getting chilly at that time of night).

Rias waved her hand over the young girl, watching as a glyph of translucent crimson light spun under her. Rias, pleased with its making, reached into her pocket and pulled from her loose dress a skinny, long silvery chess piece. It was the Bishop piece and it was placed carefully atop of Asia sleeping form.

Naruto might have thought this strange but understood that she _always_ carried around her Peerage pieces. Their value was _incalculable._ Losing one would be like losing a part of your soul.

Tonight just worked wonderfully by the circumstances of her desire for more members to add to her Peerage.

"_In the name of Rias Gremory, I call upon the soul of Asia Argento."_

It had begun. Rias had her arms outstretched, standing over the body of the girl and uttering the 'Chant of Servitude,' as it was commonly called. Akeno and Koneko stood at her side, watching their new sister being born. Naruto was with Kiba, watching the happenings some distance away. Kiba was beside him, offering a hand to his shoulder, trying to ease his tense form.

"_Hear my command; return thy soul from the shadows of death, back into the human realm!"_

The crimson glyph glowed brightly under the nun. The air around the ruined church was picking up, flowing through the teenagers and swirling the hair with the shifts in wind.

Part of Naruto wondered if, maybe, performing this Devilish, necromantic ritual in a _church_, of all places, was perhaps some form of bad juju to perform.

"_Rise once more as my Devil's Servant! Rejoice, for you have been given new life!"_

The Bishop piece flowed a bright red, illuminating the girl and surrounding her in a reddish aura, not to unlike Gremory household's glyph beneath her. The chess piece then sunk through Naruto's jacket, easing into Asia's skin below and merging with her.

"_Wake as my healer and clergyman!"_

Twilight Healing, which had been held closely by Naruto as Rias performed her task, shot from his loose grip and flew into the unmoving body of its previous owner. The action surprised him, including everyone around, especially as the reddish glow from the chess piece now seemed to be taking a somewhat greenish tone then it had previously.

The green disappeared quickly then. And then the body flinched.

Those first moments of new life were always so bizarre to witness. This was Naruto's third ritual viewing, and every time, there was always that twitch in the body that made the experience so bizarre to him.

Was it a chill? A shake? The soul of the Peerage King awakening the body from the inside? The chess piece making room in its new owner and trying to ease itself into a comfortable position between, say, the heart and lungs?

Whatever it was, it gave the ninja the chills.

Asia's eyes were the first thing to move after the shake in her form. The viridian eyes opened slowly, taking in the roof of the church as the first thing to cross her new, bettered night vision. She opened her eyes a little further, seeing a wider space but feeling very tired, nonetheless. She thought she might have recognized her surroundings a bit, shifting her glance from side to side, up and down, but wasn't too sure.

Then she noticed the people standing around her. The beautiful redhead was smiling to her, quietly, looking very pleased with whatever she was looking at. Behind her was a small, silver haired child and a dark haired teen that looked to be around the same age as the redhead. They were wearing the same kind of uniform and smiling to her.

Asia was confused. "Uh-umm. Where, exactly, am I?"

It was an honest question. One a voice behind her was happy enough to answer.

"You're still in the church, Asia."

The young nun's eyes widened, turning her head swiftly to the other side. She recognized the voice.

"And you're alive. That's what matters the most."

Naruto walked over to her. She was still wearing his jacket and staring dumbly at him. No doubt she was wondering how she was alive, who these people were and what was going on.

To make long, overly descriptive dialogue short, he told her everything. He told her how he defeated the Fallen Angel and retrieved the Sacred Gear. He told her how he managed to convince Rias to accept her into her Peerage as a reborn Devil. He begged her forgiveness for doing something she hadn't asked him to and was grateful beyond words that she would not scorn him for his actions. She even hugged him; _thanking him _for giving her a second chance at life.

This was Asia; pure, innocent, forgiving. A truly wonderful person in his eyes and the rest of Rias Gremory's Peerage.

And finally, he swore to her, on both of their lives, that he would never_, ever_ let her down again.

A promise of a lifetime.

* * *

_Complex Apartments, south end of city, ten minutes later…_

_Knock knock knock._

Azazel turned his head towards the front of his apartment. He was sitting, silently, with drink in hand, waiting for anything or anyone to appear. The three knocks on his door was the first bit of noise he'd received since angry shouts from several legion commanders, asking what in Heaven's name was going on towards the abandoned church on the north-east side of the city.

They felt the rush of energy. Energy that felt strongly Angelic. Many wondered if a lord of Heaven was descending from the forgotten church, flaunting his power to challenge any who would dare match him.

It was a dramatic idea to believe possible, but the old lord guessed it wasn't an _im_possible one.

But, in the end, he assured all worried parties that _everything_ was being handled by a professional under the employment of the Grigori faction and that any and all fears would be settled soon. He even sent Lord Baraqiel ahead as backup, with very specific instructions in mind from the old lord. The use of the stern Fallen, along with the apparently trustworthy employee of their Lord Azazel, quieted many of those voicing concerns that night, for many trusted their lord and did not believe he would lie to them about, well, anything.

Their trust had been well placed. Soon after Azazel's promised, the rush of powerful holy energy had been swept away, as if erased into thin air.

To the legions, Azazel had been right, as usual.

After the last call for concern had been answered and assuaged, Azazel decided a nice cup of red drink would do his heart well. His stress levels were escalating and a cool, calming drink of one of his favorite brands would do him some good (because, even he would admit, ramen just couldn't do what alcohol was so readily awaiting to do to his nerves).

He'd only been on his third sip when the noise rang through his apartment.

He stretched his senses out, feeling the presence just outside the door.

Weak though it was, he recognized it almost instantly.

"Coming, coming, one moment!" He shouted, slamming his glass down and quickly running towards the front of his temporary residence.

He unlocked the door's simple locking mechanic, feeling several dozen additional magical runes and ties disappear with his simple twist of the door metal seal, then threw the door wide. His eyes were wide and worried and, despite the short run to the door, he appeared out of breath. But the figure, standing casually in front of his doorway, made his worried expression disappear into a fit of smiles and chuckles.

"_Raynare!_"

There she was. His missing ward. Standing there, outside his residency, calmly waiting as Azazel moved to stand quickly beside her. In an unwanted twist, Azazel's mind registered the scene before him was playing out as an almost painful echo from many years ago; with her scantly dress covered in dirt, her face bruised and her expression dower then such a pretty face should ever been. And while before (five days prior, specifically) Naruto had left the young Fallen in a state of mostly sore muscles and a wounded pride, this time, it seemed, he left her with more wounds on her person then just her sense of superiority.

He might have been angry at him if he wasn't just happy that she was _alive_.

And above all else, there was something that stood out of Raynare's appearance that was certainly more prevalent than anything that looked dirtied, ruffed up or untidied.

Raynare's eyes; had they been so vibrant the couple nights before? They were the same violet coloring but now…they _shined_.

The young Fallen, standing outside the lord's temporary Japanese abode, shifted awkwardly at his doorstep. "H-hey, um…hey." She was stuttering, finding her eyes strangely interested in the apartment's doormat. "I, um, I-I kind of…I did something I shouldn't…that is to say, um…" She stopped, trying to find the right words. Her fingers tightened into fists as she struggled with her own sense of fear.

She was fraught with worry. A serious case of it.

But she was trying. Trying _so_ very hard.

Azazel himself just watched her from the doorway. He noticed her brow curling, her lips moving in ways that showed she truly _was_ trying to tell him something and the way her ears were turning red in worry.

She was trying to confess; to _talk_ to him.

For the first time in a _very_ long time, _she_ was trying to start up a conversation.

This meant she wasn't holding back.

He laughed from the doorway – a loud, almost cleansing laugh of release from the stress of the entire craziness of the night – watching the young woman's head shoot up, wide eyed, and almost scared to look at him straight in the eye. She looked fearful, vulnerable and terrified at what might happen next. Like a child with their hand in the mother of all cookie jars.

Azazel couldn't help the next words that came from his mouth.

"Did you fall down some stairs _again_?"

His tone was in jest, but his stature and expression was soft, understanding, and above all, _kind_.

His ward stared up to him. Her face was of disbelief for the briefest of moments, before her eyes, brow and mouth curled and contorted into a look of absolute _defeat_.

"_Y-ye-e-e-essss!"_

She didn't hold back the tears, the shakes or even to wait outside and be asked inside any longer. She moved forward, arms wide and wrapped them around her guardian's waist, letting the tears fall freely as she put as much effort as she could into holding the man in front of her.

How many years had it been since she hugged him? She couldn't recall. Didn't want to recall.

He was warm, welcoming and she was crying. And she was okay with that.

"I-I'm sorry_, dad."_ She cried out her words, holding the man in front of her with all she had. She was wetting his lavender kimono with her tears. "I-I am so, _so_ sorry. I made a mistake and did something I shouldn't have and I am sorry! Dad, I am so, _so_ _sorry_…"

Dad. How he loved to hear that word. Azazel didn't wait long to wrap his arms around his child, holding her as tight as she was, brushing his fingers through her hair like he did when she was a little girl in a crib. She used to love it. Still did, in fact, even as he tried to calm her quietly through her muffled cries in his chest.

"Shh, shh, shh, don't worry baby girl, it's alright." His voice was a whisper, but his tone only gave away the _smallest_ portion of just how happy he was to have her. "It's alright. I got you, no worries, I got you." And he had no intention of ever letting her go. Not ever.

They stayed like that for a long while – crying and comforting one another in each other's arms.

Raynare was crying years' worth of tears while Azazel performed his long overdue duties as a father.

It was such a serene, heartwarming scene. Even the figure atop the roof across the road from them, hidden from their view and watching them with a smile, admitted to himself that, maybe, it would be best to let the two have their space for the night.

He would get his needed information on what the heck was happening within the Fallen ranks of Grigori later.

Maybe tomorrow, if he didn't sleep the day away by accident.

His true self was _exhausted._

Naruto laughed quietly, moving to the side of the roof, away from the father and daughter pair, and dispersed into thin air with a loud 'pop' and a small cloud of smoke that followed.

* * *

_A few days later…_

"_It's 7:00 AM!_

"_Helpful advice to all you men out there: i__f you walk into a bathroom when a girl's already using it, and she's ready to make you look like what Vlad the Impaler did to the Turks, just remember: she should have locked the door!__"_

A hand reached out from underneath a thick nest of blankets to smash down on an annoying alarm clock at the side table. A loud grunt could be heard through the large apartment as a bushel of bright blond hair made its way from under the blankets that laid atop the couch.

Exhausted and looking irritable, the blond-haired owner of the clock-smashing hand stood up from his resting spot in a slouch. Scratching his mangled and stiff hair loose, the young owner of the apartment made his way out of his living room and into the kitchen, stretching out tight muscles as he did so.

The blond attempted to blink out remaining levels of exhaustion as he pulled out a carton of two-percent milk and drank it straight from the lid. Though taught better than to do so, he had a busy past week. He earned a little pass from common practices of standard living.

Once the carton was empty, he pulled his mouth away and offered a sigh of relief. Nothing beat milk in the morning.

Tossing the empty carton into a waiting trash bin, the blond casually walked to the window of his apartment; gazing out over the view of several houses, stores and the single high school building off in the distance.

Naruto smiled out to the view.

"It is looking like a _really_ nice day today."

"_Oh!_ Hurry up, Naruto-kun! We're going to be late if we don't hurry!" A feminine voice shouted from behind the former Hokage, followed by quickly shuffling feet and sounds of distress and questions of 'where did I leave this or that or whatnot.'

Naruto blinked, startled out of his musing on the great view to turn around and look back to the unexpected guest to his apartment.

And by unexpected, he meant that he kept forgetting that he'd been given, unceremoniously and without debate, a roommate.

The roommate being a Ms. Asia Argento.

"Oh, I _knew_ I should have gotten everything ready last night! I was just so tired but I couldn't get to sleep and – I-I mean, your bed _is_ very comfy, Naruto-kun, but I was just nervous and this is my first day to get registered and…and…_oh._"

Now, before any misunderstandings occurred, Asia was given the apartment bed by Naruto as long as she remained in his place. It was an appropriate choice to make with being in a new environment, especially with a boy living so close by. The blond ninja hoped to make her feel as comfortable as possible, even under the strange occurrence of becoming a Devil and moving into a completely strange lifestyle so suddenly.

Volunteering to sleep on the couch was the least Naruto could offer to help ease the former nun into her new life.

"Oh! I am really making a mess of _everything_. And on my first day of school, of all days to be so untidy." Asia looked almost ready to cry, Naruto watching from the side as she brought her hands together in a prayer fashion, turning her head to the sky, "Oh, my lord, please forgive this humble servant for her lethargy-OWIE!" Asia's arms suddenly went to her head, holding it tightly almost as if she had a brain freeze.

Funny little fact about Devils: if they prayed to the Biblical God, a shock was sent through their system, similar to if, but not nearly as harsh, a holy weapon was placed on their skin. The 'holy-shock,' as Naruto called it, was a minor, usually temporary annoyance to any Devil who prayed or used the name of God for anything. And in the case of Asia, who attempted to pray, at least once, every hour or so, it made the last two days alone a very entertaining experience for the blond hero of Kuoh.

Certainly wasn't a negative he'd put on the whole roommate experience.

Shaking his head and laughing at the innocent nun, now reborn Devil, under his care, Naruto walked to the kitchen area and gave a shout out, "Hey, Asia! You want eggs, bacon, waffles, pancakes – you name it, I make it!"

* * *

_A mile or so from Kuoh Academy, sidewalk…_

"Okay, okay, I just-just have to check everything one more time. Now, I have the rulers, the pencils, the erasers, the _spare_ erasers, the pens, paper-"

"Asia."

"-and there's the textbooks, can't forget those, the lined paper, the drawing paper, the spare gym clothes, the swimsuit, the spare uniform in case I spill something on my current one-"

"Asia…"

"-and there's the mechanical pencil and there's the painting kit and…and…wait, hold on, where's my apple?! I-I was sure I had one! This is terrible! How am I going to make a good impression with the teacher if I don't have the proper greeting etiquette material for him or her?! Oh Naruto-kun, we have to go to the market and-"

"_Asia!_"

Naruto shouted, startling the girl out of her murmurings. She stared up to her guide from her sitting position in the middle of the city's walkways, having placed her _very_ large backpack on the ground to look over the contents inside of it. She was panicking and making an extreme effort to come off as a perfect student for her first day of school, which required her to sit down, take all of the items out from her bag and place them on the ground, counting everything to make sure she had everything she needed for Kuoh Academy.

It would have been cute if this wasn't the third time she performed the action since leaving his apartment.

Naruto, somewhat grieved by his roommate's need to be perfect, reached behind himself to pull out the needed reddish fruit. "I've been carrying it myself, remember?"

This was the third time he reminded her. Her cheeks turned pink in remembrance, as well. "Oh. Right. I forgot. I-I didn't have enough room for the fruit." She tried laughing but it came out strained and twitchy. She started to put everything back into her bag, slowly, red-faced, and trying to avoid Naruto's gaze.

She was trying to prove herself to him. That much was obvious. And he felt like a jerk for reminding her that she had everything ready, prepared and accounted for.

She was just scared. She needed a pep talk.

"Hey, Asia, listen," he knelt down beside her, helping her put her things quickly away, "I know what you're going through. New town, new living space, and now a school – especially school – that's a lot to take in, right?" He didn't even mention the whole 'becoming a Devil' thing. That went without saying. "But I'm telling you, you're going to do _fine_. You have me, Rias, Akeno, Koneko, Kiba – _everyone_, who is willing to make your first day at Kuoh great." He put the last pencil in her bag, closing the latches for her and lifting it carefully onto her back. "So don't worry about anything, alright? We've got your back."

Asia turned around, backpack once more strapped tightly to herself, and looked nervously up to Naruto. "Yeah, I know. It's just, I'm _still_ nervous." She fidgeted with her straps, her bottom lip quivering a little as she stared into Naruto's blue eyes. "Hey, Naruto-kun, w-would you tell me if y-_you_ were scared on your first day at Kuoh?"

Naruto lifted his head in the direction of the school. He remembered fighting a nutcase with a sword the size of a car at the age of twelve. He punched a giant snake in the nose and broke a snake in half when it ate him. He beat up Garra of the Sand, a mass murderer at the time, when few could even touch him in life. He beat up a serial killer at sixteen. He _wrecked_ the landscape of a forest fighting the Snake Sannin. He beat six guys who possessed eyes blessed by a literal god of Chakra. He conquered his 'inner demon' in one-on-one combat _in his mind_. He helped stop a war and save an army of ninja. He beat up monsters and stopped said previous god of Chakra from destroying the world.

He also fought someone on the moon, all before he even got married.

So…Kuoh Academy? Scary?

He turned his head back down to Asia's waiting face.

Naruto smiled down to her. "_Terrified_," he answered, seeing a surprised, and maybe a little joyful, look appear on the former nun's face, "first day at Kuoh, I was so scared, I almost walked into the girl's locker-room. _Thrice_." Asia was giggling now, nervousness gone. "But you know, Rias-chan was there to help me out. And Akeno-chan, too. They really helped me get used to this place in no time." He gave her his best, brightest smile. "And I'll be more than happy to help you too! No matter what!"

"Really?"

"Heheh, sure! What are friends for?" Her expression held no trace of fear now. For some reason, it reminded him of something important he had to do. "Oh, I almost forgot!" He exclaimed, reaching around to his backpack, messing with the zipper for only a moment, before his hand went into the center pocket and pulled out a small, slightly larger than his hand, toy.

It was the yellow and black mouse. The one dropped during her abduction the previous week.

Asia was shocked.

"Yeah, sorry it took me this long to get it back. It was a little dirty from where you dropped it so I kinda tried to clean it off as best I could so…here," Naruto held it out to her, "happy first day of school…or something."

Asia stared at it, mouth agape, reaching out to take it in her arms.

She stared at it hard. Tears started to form in her eyes. "I thought I lost it…"

"Ahh! Oh please don't cry! I-I'm sorry, okay, I know it's not the best gift and I should have given you something more but-"

She hugged him. Toy still in hand, she reached her tiny arms around his waist and pulled herself to him in a tight embrace.

Naruto, mid-speech, blinked surprised, turning his eyes down to the crying, hugging, smiling young girl.

"Thank you, Naruto-kun. Thank you _so much._"

Naruto smiled, reaching down to pat her comfortingly. "Don't mention it."

They hugged one another tightly, Asia laughing into his chest as he tried his best to hug her even with the wide load in her backpack, before the two separated. Asia looked ecstatic now. "This day is going to be wonderful." She giggled, petting the toy mouse-thing. "Yes. I'm sure it is."

Naruto was about to agree, along with a spurring forward for the pair before they actually _were_ late to class, only for one of the most interesting of occurrence to happen at that very moment.

A voice shouted from the corner ahead of them.

"Oi! Asia-san!"

The two blonds turned to the origin of the yell.

"Asia-san! Good morning!"

Naruto couldn't hold back his surprise. Neither could Asia, though for different reasons.

"G-good morning to you too!"

Now Naruto was _really_ surprised. He turned his head towards the smaller blonde, Asia's expression one of complete and utter _joy_ as she lifted her free arm not holding the toy to wave excitedly. She looked ready to bounce for joy; the level of vibrancy coming off her was so pronounced and enjoyable it was difficult not to smile with her.

And all this, just from one single boy down the corner of the street.

One brown-haired, average height, all-around perverted boy of Kuoh Academy:

It was Issei Hyoudou.

"Issei-san, Issei-san! W-wait for me!" Asia yelled, running forward a couple steps, paused, then turned back around frantically, cheeks colored an embarrassed red. "I-I am sorry, Naruto-kun. I-I did not mean to run off but I, uhm, if you don't mind, I just-"

Naruto wasn't paying attention then. His mind decided to do a minor reset at what was now being fully registered as _actually happening_ in front of his own eyes.

This was the boy? The boy she regretted leaving? Issei Hyoudou, of all people? The one he'd only recently finished watching and protecting and ensuring he lived to possibly see old age – _that guy?_ And he was 'familiar' with Asia? Another person he just so happened to have saved from the _same _Fallen Angel?

_What the f&amp;%k is going on here?!_

"-a-and I hope it isn't too much to ask for, but," Naruto rebooted then, turning his head down to the girl, who looked quite frantic over…something, "may I walk to school with Issei-san? Please?"

…Searching for response…searching for response…oh, wait, she was asking for-

"Oh! Uh, sure," Naruto blinked himself awake. He was only guessing what she said and, based on how it sounded eerily familiar to how Himawari (his past daughter, he had one) sounded when she asked him if she could walk to the academy with a boy one day (he remembered being very tempted into deporting said boy's entire family to the Tetsu no Kuni (the Land of Iron) at that moment). He really hoped he was right about this one. "Uh, no problem with me. Ju-just make sure to take, uh, take the, uh, banana. NO! Wait, _apple_. I-I meant apple."

Reboot at, apparently, forty percent.

Thankfully, Asia's excitement seemed to blind her to her friend's sudden bizarre behavior. Reaching out, she took the apple from the blond boy and nodded gratefully. "Oh, thank you Naruto-kun! I promise to make it up to you. Promise!"

Not trusting his voice after _that_ great use of the words to make actual sentences, Naruto just nodded with pursed lips and shooed his roommate off toward the Hyoudou kid.

The boy was waiting quietly at the corner, smiling excitedly. It didn't even seem like a perverse smile. He actually seemed happy when Asia came over beside, carrying apple and toy in hand, and greeted him with an overly excited smile and an innocence that was both sweet and almost supernatural to behold. It certainly seemed to be a strong contrast to the perverse ways of Issei's usual day to day routine, especially when he reached out and tried to help carry the few of things in her arms.

Asia was blushing. Naruto could see it, even from where he stood. She was _blushing_ at Issei Hyoudou.

He paused briefly to think of how _impossibly_ coincidental this all was.

It was a one-in-a-million chance. That one opportunity that just didn't seem like it would happen but did.

And to Naruto, who stood back briefly to watch the boy and girl walk ahead of himself in the direction of the school, he found it all just so…so…

_Funny._

"Hehehe-haha-HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

He laughed loud. He laughed deeply. He might have even laughed a little crazily. But in the end, the sheer happenstance of the two meeting –

Was it fate? Was it destiny? Heck, was it _God?_

Naruto, still in a fit of giggles, could honestly not say with certainty which it was. But, even if it was some outside force messing with the present circumstances of those two meeting, he didn't care. Because, frankly, the two looked happy. Really, _really_ happy.

And that was all that mattered, right?

And now, without further ado, with a bright smile on his face and a kick to his step, Naruto followed after the pair in the direction of the academy. Thinking that, maybe, Asia had been right.

Today was looking _pretty amazing_ right then.

* * *

_A little ways behind the hero, a few minutes ago…_

Head covered in a tan hat, eyes covered in sunglasses and wearing a tight beige long coat, Raynare stood quietly at the far corner of the street, eyes watching the Devil and human pair converse down the city street in the direction of, if she remembered right, Kuoh Academy.

The two were smiling, talking about things she could not make out and being normal morning students who walked to school. Nothing about their actions or their individual appearances was out of the ordinary, except if one considered the idea that one of them actually _died_ a couple days before and the other, once again, had blue eyes instead of the feral red.

Yep. Nothing weird there!

She figured they would do this – the simple lifestyle of walking to school, keeping to a state of normalcy that befitted any student in the city. She figured this would be the most likely course of action since leaving early morning from her lord's apartment. The blond hadn't stood out to her during her brief adventure as a student of Kuoh; that was because he decided to blend in with them like he was 'normal.'

She concluded, even before leaving, that this boy - this _Naruto_ \- would act in a way that avoided attention. That he would try and remain normal, unimpressive and unnoticeable to all those around him and avoid giving away any sort of hint to his untapped potential.

She figured as much, but did not try and convince herself to _not_ stay back at her lord's…her _father's_ apartment.

She should have been resting, healing, getting the full feeling of her arms back.

But she didn't. She left early that morning without thinking a second more about it.

Why?

Why? _Why_ she was doing this? _Why_ had she decided to dress up like one of Azazel's old undercover spy characters? Why was she being so secretive to people that could have cared less if she was near them or not? Why the secret agents act?

Why, _why_ was she finding the blond's simple act of just walking away so casually and carefree so _interesting?_

She was better than this. He was the enemy (Maybe? Kinda? Not anymore?). Her life was spared by him, he offered advice to her, generally helped her and now she was practically _stalking_ him to school?

What spurred this action? What would make her do something so…so…_silly?_

_What is wrong with me?!_

She grumbled to herself, gritting her teeth behind the corner wall. Even without directly being involved with her actions, Naruto Uzumaki was proving to be a _menace_. Even doing nothing but stand there, watching the nun girl run off ahead of him, he was being utterly _infuriating!_

She was a member of Grigori, damn it! Such actions were beneath her!

She trained under Azazel, learned from Baraqiel, and would prove her worth as a strong, capable, and confident Fallen Angel! She would work, she would bleed, she would give her _all_ to Grigori so that one day, she would be looked upon as positively as her father was.

No shortcuts. No cheating. She would be Raynare; a Fallen Angel who did _right_ by Grigori.

Her thoughts were so captivated on how _awesome_ she was going to prove everyone she could be that she forgot what she was doing just then.

Blushing at being caught in the glow of her own passion, Raynare turned back around to look down the roadway towards the blond, watching as he laughed loudly to himself.

Why was he laughing? She missed something (crap) and now he was laughing.

_What, what did I miss?_

He chuckled a little more. It couldn't have lasted longer than a couple seconds, but it was joyful, cheerful and so full of energy that it was eye-catching, followed by a bright, satisfied, and downright _harmonious_ smile, as he returned to walking in the direction of the academy.

Her eyes were fixated on him as he continued on his way to school; her eyes never leaving him until he turned down a corner and walked out of view.

She'd been silent, careful, and observant to those very last moments of view.

Or, more specifically, over the curve of his lips, more like.

_That smile…_

It gave her pause at the corner.

She stared at it carefully as he walked. Pearlescent teeth, absolute joy in his eyes, and the way his strange birthmarks moved with his smile in a way that made it almost seem…cute…

He was Naruto Uzumaki. Raynare watched him since he left his apartment. Before returning to her own home, she would claim that she had wasted a perfectly good morning on something that was dull, uninteresting, and had no purpose in catching her eye.

…Although…maybe…that smile of his _was_ kind of nice to look at…

END OF BOOK ONE

* * *

**OVER 50,000 WORDS, Y'ALL! AND OVER A HUNDRED AND TEN PAGES OF WRITING!**

***HEAD-BANGING-ON-DESK* *HEAD-BANGING-ON-DESK* *HEAD-BANGING-ON-DESK***

**Alright. Needless to say, this, like the chapter prior, has been a ****nightmare**** to write.**

**This chapter was terrifying; trying to give exposition and flashbacks to an almost entirely linear storyline is **_**hard**_**. This is doubly so when you have to create flashbacks entirely off of personal creativity or imagination. I have to create the imagery for the reader without being over excessive (because, let's face it, DIALOGUE is what most of us like to read), in addition to not being too neglectful that it doesn't give a too simple image to what I hope to convey.**

**I had to create a reasonable background to an otherwise one-dimensional villain such as Raynare-THAT'S NOT EASY! I didn't want her to come off as the 'Tragic Villain' or whatever. She still did bad things! But, I figure just being evil for the sake of evil and the laughs were just kind of meh.**

**So, background on originally unimportant canon character. Hurray.**

**But the worst part of this chapter? ****Making the situations serious.** **I hate serious writing scenes-they are no fun! This is a humor/romance fic, dammit! Where's my lols?! But I also know that, with this chapter having a fight scene over the death of a nun, of all things, inside of a church that I couldn't just make it a happy-go-lucky bout between two conflicted characters.**

**And political writing is worse than fight scenes, I swear (CURSE YOU ****HOUSE OF CARDS****! YOU DID NOT PREPARE ME FOR THIS).**

**But, in the end, this was the result of my two months of work.**

**I wasn't sure if I was 'jumping the shark' or not with this chapter and REALLY worried about positing it. I'm a man, I should be confident in my writing, but I worry still. I have level of pride in my works. I wish to convey that. I just want to have a certain depth and feel to it that is my own, while still being closely followed by the original series. To put my own edge to an already lengthy and popular setting, created by someone else.**

'**Fanfiction,' if you would.**

**Also, do not worry about the 'jump-timeline' thing I did in this chapter. I wasn't sure how to go about it: make it from past to present, jump between past and present to allow the reader to still be interested in present dealings, something between the two – WHICHEVER! I wasn't sure how the reader would prefer it so I just went with my gut instinct. Don't expect a lot of jumping around the time stream in the history of my DxD universe after this. More linear storyboarding after this.**

**Poll finished on June first! ****Friday updates**** are final! Midnight-Friday is when I like to post my work, Eastern Time United States. Just a heads up.**

**I KNOW IT IS SATURDAY WHEN I POSTED THIS CHAPTER, BUT I DIDN'T WANT TO WAIT ANOTHER WEEK TO POST! SO THERE!**

**Hmm. And I think that's everything! Super psyched from E3! Final Fantasy 7 remake, Kingdom Hearts, Last Guardian, Lara Croft –**

**MY BODY IS READY!**

**(Oh, and ****Inside Out**** was legit and awesome, as well, just as a side note to the epicness of Pixar (please hire me!)).**

**And just one more thing:**

**SUPER IMPORTANT NOTE NUMBER ONE: I want to thank Kenchi618 for promoting my story on his podcast recently. I have not listened to it personally but others have openly said that they were inspired to read my work based off his promotion. I thank him greatly for it. I am a big fan of his work and am immensely pleased that he has found my work till now to be satisfactory. I hope to continue, not only to impress him personally, but ALL of my fans with my work from here to the future.**

**SUPER IMPORTANT NOTE NUMBER TWO: I apologize for the delay with this chapter. Between creating entirely new scenes, creating entertaining backgrounds, fight sequences, political scenes, internships, working out and frankly just trying to write an overall impressive story without issue to either myself or the readers, I have been busy. But, I still aim to write something impressive so no worries. I am in fine health and aim to impress still further with the next chapters. I have ideas and am excited to write them (plus, I got so many bad-ass speeches, if I do say so myself, for the chapters to come that I am excited by just that prospect of putting them to paper)!**

**SUPER IMPORTANT NOTE NUMBER THREE: Happy birthday to shadespace! You said it was going to be your birthday – a small note of congratulations couldn't hurt! And sorry I'm a day late, but I wrote over twenty-five **_**thousand **_**words in the span of a day and a half, trying to get it ready as a birthday gift. Still, sorry I couldn't follow through with my promise.**

**Anyhow****, time for a small, weekend break, then back to writing! Now that the first arc is done, I can get into some ****serious**** stuff…**


	7. The First Domino

**WARNING: READ SPARINGLY!**

**As much as I love people reading my work, this chapter is BOOK LENGTH! Meaning, it's long and should require some breaks in-between! Get some water, eat some toast, get some fresh air (if you have any around), but don't try to set and get through this chapter in one go!**

**With books, you have mini breaks in between pages. The information is spread out. But in FF, the information is ALL THERE and that can be wearying too some.**

**I don't want people to get annoyed or irritated by my work because of the length, which is why I encourage a few moments to rest the eyes and look away to other things. It will do wonders for your reading enjoyment.**

**But anyway, the story of ****The Beast of Gremory**** continues. And boy, this chapter? **_**Tough.**_

**I tried to write something enjoyable, yet interesting, as well.**

**Because, in the end, I'm writing Fanfiction, not for the reviews, favorites or followers, but because I am trying to IMPROVE my ability to write. I want to write novels someday, and I have story ideas in mind. But if I can't improve on my skills through a medium that doesn't leave me too embarrassed if I make a mistake and people can find me then to point and laugh, then I'm golden!**

**Anyway, enough with the moodfest – this chapter is an interesting one. Because it goes places the original story does not. At least briefly.**

**Everything I write in this chapter is important to the story at large – either because it helps build the world of my story (which I am trying to work on: world-building stories) or because the information may tie into things later on.**

**But don't be alarmed!**

**Yes, there is information in the story, but don't try to boggle your mind with trying to remember everything. It will just hurt you in the long run.**

**This chapter is long-term plot relevant, world-building chapter. It might seem irrelevant and might be difficult to read, but I assure you, it is important still.**

**READ AT YOUR OWN ****VOLITION.**

**Now, with my health and plot warnings out of the way, sit back and enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

BOOK TWO

PROLOGUE: THE FIRST DOMINO…

_Oymyakon._

_Oymyakon._

_Oi-mi-ah-kone_

_Oymyakon._

_Oymyakon is a small village-town located in the Siberian Tundra of the Sakha Republic of Russia. It is three days close to nothing, holds a successful import-export business of sleet and snow, and holds regular temperatures which dip to ten degrees below 'cold as hell.' The forests surrounding were largely unused to producing anything resembling the color green, the river that ran through the town was small and unsuitable for anything more than light fishing or the occasional rowboat, and with the town's practically non-existent fauna life, even the most casual of hunters would neither find interest nor even the excitement of the challenge in finding a living creature nearby. Even the single highway leading into Oymyakon – affectionately referred to as 'The Road of Bones' – took many a lives of daring adventurists which have heard of the pass's treacherous reputation and made entering the small town just as dangerous as leaving it._

_Final thoughts: it isn't the ideal 'Summer Home' location._

_From the outside looking in, Oymyakon is largely unremarkable by appearance and features when compared to other Russian settlements. It has its civilian population (roughly five-hundred (all human) in number), its farm lands, its households of different qualities of living, and its common marketable features that would allow it to remain stable and supportive even in its middle-of-nowhere placing. By and large, even when comparing Oymyakon to its closest town-neighbor, there really wasn't much to see which would surprise or even intrigue the average fellow._

_Oymyakon was what Oymyakon was. And by looks alone, it was just an average Russian town trying to get by in the unforgiving wilderness._

_But then, why was it worth mentioning now? Or better question: what was it that made the small village of Oymyakon 'famous?'_

_Famous, yes, FAMOUS. Oymyakon, the almost-literal Backside of Russia, was famous. Famous for its peculiarity, as well as its extremity._

_And the reason for this was actually quite simple:_

_It's because it is cold._

_Very cold._

_EXTREMELY cold._

_DEATHLY-FRIGIDLY-BLISTERINGLY-UNNATURALLY cold._

_To put it lightly._

_Located between two large mountain ranges, Oymyakon was troubled with the unfortunate cold airs which trapped themselves below the two peaks. This led to extreme climate changes which caused the village to experience some of the most confusing and unorthodox weather patterns in the human world. From summers with scorching heats to winters which dipped into the negative double digits, the unusual weather phenomenon which tortured the Oymyakon providence were widely known by the Russian people. The frost alone that came with such punishing environments was enough to freeze entire residential areas shut for several days; and that was if the snow didn't do it first._

_Thus are the reasons why Oymyakon is famously referred to as the 'Coldest Village on Earth'._

_The abnormal temperature and climate conditions made living in such an environment especially difficult: blizzards that froze to the bone, winds which tore roofs apart, hail the size of softballs – it seemed the land itself had incurred the wrath of Mother Nature._

_It is for these reasons that it is no surprise that only the __**hard**__, __**willful**__ and __**persistent**__ (stubborn) could survive such a torrent of weather conditions._

…_With one exception. And that is why we are mentioning Oymyakon today._

_Down by the village waterway, there laid a mansion. A 'comfortable' mansion, that much was certain. A mansion of significant girth and size it easily took up half the size of Oymyakon. A mansion that's foundation stood well over three stories high and showed neither ware or tear in the years of its construct. A mansion of such impressive structure and thought, it held years' worth of innovation and imagination into its initial blueprints. A mansion of such uniqueness and intimidating-design, it was a marvel and a wonder why it was constructed in such an unassuming village as Oymyakon._

_This was known by the village people as the Manor of the esteemed Mikhail Mihailoff._

_Or Mihailoff Manor, for simplicities sake._

* * *

_Mihailoff Manor._

_Constructed nearly twenty years ago, the large estate stood impressively over the village it was built around. With an outer layer made with brick and steel plating to keep even the worst of Oymyakon's conditions at bay, the outer structure alone had more funding put into it than all of the constructed establishments that surrounded it. And indeed, even without maintenance or workings from outside professionals, the mansion seemed just as powerful and impressive as the day of its completion. The manor was built to last and hold against any storm; no doubt pleasing its constructors for their fine achievement and its owner for not needing the necessity of constant caring._

_But while the outside was a spectacle of little doubt, it was unquestionably the inside of the home where the true magic happened._

_Fine kitchens with the latest in culinary workings; a botanical garden which maintained a constant, tropical temperature; a four-cornered pool which stretched as wide and long as any house; a facility for exercise which, though rarely used by its current owner, held an air of capability and flair to it which was appreciated thoroughly; several guest rooms and, well, just about anything else imaginable in a stable, relaxing retirement home for an overly rich and imaginative gentlemen who enjoyed the tranquility of his 'castle.'_

_The structure aimed – and succeeded – in achieving the epitome of an inside comfortable environment._

_Although, as often the case when large, private homes were constructed in small, familiar communities, rumors quickly spread._

_Most came from the children; silly stories that stretched past the imagination and barred on such pure examples of fiction that even the most attentive conspiracy theorist would scoff at the absurdities. Rumors such as how 'the old man cut the body of little Abram into tiny pieces and fed him to his fish tank' or 'Boris saw the old man go into his house without using a door' were only to name a few. Of course, these rumors were largely exaggerated – Abram was fine and the mansion's owner just went to the back door to find a spare key after locking himself out – but this did little to stop their flow of talk, even with the constant scolding from adult figures to not tell such exaggerated tales about the sweet old man._

_Speaking of; who was the sweet old fellow who lived in the mansion all alone?_

_It was certainly a question many asked but few bothered to delve deeply into. The elderly man who lived in the mansion was not of Russian descent, though his name did hold a certain north Eurasian sound to it. He was not a face anyone of the small town knew, though his obvious presence and rich tastes made it seem as if he were some old king, retiring to a secluded Russian abode._

_He was a stranger who came to a cold village some twenty years prior, laying down foundations in the small place in the middle of nowhere. The heavy construction done for his new home, if such a castle could even be called simply a 'home,' was originally quite disorienting and even intrusive to many of the residents. Most found comfort in the calmness of their little place – such trespasses of space and sound came off as being most unwelcome._

_But of course, the citizens were not unreasonable. Their blame was not ill placed. The builders were not at fault – they had jobs and duties to make ends meet. Nor was the machinery to blame – the tools were made to do what needed doing and could not be blamed for the noise._

_The blame instead, as it stood so easily, was placed on a single, rather unremarkable looking individual._

_An old man, as it were._

_An old man the mansion was named from._

_An old man who was named Mikhail Mihailoff._

* * *

_Mikhail Mihailoff._

_Mikhail Mihailoff was a relatively squat, wrinkled old man who had long past the prime of his life. At roughly sixty years old at the time of his arrival in the Russian village, whatever features that might have been described as 'youthful' and 'good looking' had long since diminished to make way for bleached white hair, a long untrimmed beard and a deep indentation of age. Particularly so in the present day, where the now nearly eighty year old resident was often seen resting and taking deep breaths from over exertion. His youthful vigor had long since turned to eldest wisdom, with his neighbors and friends, silently, acknowledging the hard truth that perhaps their neighbor's time would soon be here._

_A dreadful thought to consider, though. Near everyone Oymyakon could say, without issue, that the man was a rare kindness to be found. His absence would leave a hole in the small town that wouldn't soon be filled…_

_But forgetting his weakening physique and endurance, it was a rare and odd occasion to see Mihailoff unsettled, displeased or otherwise have any sort of negative emotion on his face. Though his physical limitations showed more and more as the years came and went, it was never commented upon by the man. He still smiled, enjoyed evening walks, and never hesitated to join an inviting family for a meal or party. Mikhail was, by what many considered, the happiest, jolliest fellow in all of Russia. He held a kick to his step, a grin stretching from cheek to cheek, and a friendly wave and shout of "Hello!" to whomever he crossed paths with in sun, rain or snow. The man seemed to hold a natural welcoming air that attracted others. He never seemed one for negative gossip, always saw the best in others, and seemed ever a chivalrous knight of morality and code of ethics._

_Chivalrous and wealthy. An odd combination._

_Speaking of the wealth of Mihailoff, many of the small Russian village found their curiosities tweaked when the new arrival to their simple dwellings came to be known. Curiosities which led to questions such as 'how did a simple man like Mikhail become so wealthy' or 'what brings you to our simple village?'_

_A tightknit community such as Oymyakon's was understandably weary of outsiders._

_Especially one so…outlandish._

_And Mihailoff, ever kind, had been more than willing to answer any and all questions curious:_

_As his story went, Mikhail Mihailoff was once an avid, and perhaps even semi-famous, explorer of several known and unknown locations of the earth._

_From the tips of the frozen north to the endless deserts which stretched beyond a thousand miles in what seemed every direction, Mihailoff held no quarries in admitting that he'd perhaps seen any and everything the world had to offer. From high mountains to ocean limits, he claimed to have seen it all and was wondered by the planet's beauty._

_But still, how did an explorer such as he produce such prosperities?_

_Well, the former pioneer explained how he'd obtained riches and fortunes through his long travels. From long excavations, archeological digs and discoveries, great treasures were found. Treasures which, as it clearly showed with his homestead, proved to be quite large and valuable. Museums and private owners from a thousand states and cities all vied for his finds and prospects, though he admitted to keeping some of his best finds to himself._

_But then, with all the money and having seen the tips of the earth, why bother with making a home here in nowhere Russia?_

_This answer was actually simpler to answer; by Mihailoff's admittance, even with the wealth he'd been granted, it would seem that he'd never found a place that he could call his own, and after a long life of searching for someplace unique to his particular tastes, he'd hoped in his declining age that he would stumble upon a gem that he could call 'home.'_

_It was only by the grateful information offered by an old friend that he even became aware of such a small place in the woods._

_The old friend recommended it highly. He forged a tale of the people and the land, telling him of how the people were kind, but hardy; steadfast, but loyal; and no matter how 'bloody cold' it got, they persevered through it all with snow covered bodies and smiles. And the way Mihailoff expressed such eagerness to be meeting such people, and conveyed the story in such a way that hardly contained his excitement, helped ease a few of those uncomfortable to the stranger into their lives._

_But not quite everyone and that is where the benefits of owning a very large, heavily furnished, and exquisitely decorated homestead came in handy. Especially with the owner's particular passion for hosting parties featuring fine delicacies, fireworks, malt beer and any number of other desirable consumables and comforts which could be found._

_Before long, whether by his charm, jolly attitude or maybe even a little due to his oft festivities, Mikhail Mihailoff soon came to be regarded as the 'warm spot' of the cold Oymyakon by the citizens around._

_Before long, he was welcomed and beloved by all._

…

…

…_But this part of the story isn't about acceptance._

_This was an encounter of __**judgement**__._

_Though its importance now might not seem relevant now, know that this was to show how the __**first domino was set…**_

* * *

_The Outstanding Case of Mikhail Mihailoff_

_Thirteen hours ago…_

Fishing is as much an experience as it is a practice of cleansing. An involvement that challenges an individual's strength, endurance, and sense of worth in an attempt that either brought about success or failure. For thousands of years, this practice of timely achievement was based on part skill and perseverance; a type of hunting that required the 'achieved goal' to come to the hunter, rather than the other way around. Techniques, strategies, maneuverings and tools have come about from this long history of water hunting, with some being made for the sole purpose of making the challenge of fishing even _more_ difficult – for _sport_ – while many were created to ease and advance the long standing practice of the hunt for deep oceanic, lake, or, in the present and particular case, river based life.

And in such a river that connected smoothly through a small town in the middle of almost-nowhere Russia, this millennia old practice was being conducted, stalwartly, for both sport and evening meal by a very calm and very aged gentleman.

Sitting comfortably in a chair of equally matured wood, watching the water with hard focus, the man waited patiently for any sign of disturbance. His hands held on to a long, slender rod of hard metal, which in itself held onto string, which in itself was attached to a bauble that floated soundlessly on the river's top, indicating to any watcher on whether the steel hook below the smooth water's surface was being attacked by unseen things.

To some, the wait was as much a challenge and a show of one's ability as the success of the catch.

The resolute old man knew this all too well.

Speaking of, the elderly man, by limited description, was a short and hunched fellow even while sitting in his large rocking chair. Boasting long, shoulder length gray-white hair tied into a tight ponytail that was only matched by his equally long, aged white beard, no one could doubt his obvious phase in life. His dress was fitting for the climate which he had grown accustomed to after so many years: a coat of thick padding and darkish-red material that may have been more appropriately worn by a younger man – the size barely still fitting – but the senior was unperturbed. It was warm, and along with his brown boots, his home knit hat (courtesy of a kind resident girl) and nicely sewn dark jeans, he had no troubles and was comfortable in his spot.

The man was the one, and only, Mikhail Mihailoff.

* * *

Mihailoff sat quietly in the rocking chair, enjoying his pastime under his private, snow-cleared dock. He kept himself still and quiet as he stared at the water's edge, looking for ripples. Some of his fellow townsmen knew it wasn't often the elderly man could find the time or energy to enjoy such treasured moments of privacy. He was a popular man for many reasons; his grandfatherly nature, his honest person, and especially on the subject of his_possessions_.

To begin with, it should be noted that Mikhail Mihailoff was a man of significant monetary value (very, very rich). His mansion was seen as a sort of 'crown jewel' of the town, open to frequent parties and friendly visits year-round. His personal dock allowed for quiet, tranquil fishing trips or boat outings and was often occupied when he was away by children or teens during the warmer summers. His boat, perhaps the most simple of things to be found on his property, with only two oars and stable hold of regularly sanded oak wood, was a humble craft he used sparingly and kept in a condition that spoke highly of his appreciation to its design. This wasn't to say he kept poor care to his other antiquities or personal effects, but there was an apparent appreciation towards the small craft. An appreciation which, if it were to be described poetically, made the boat appear to almost 'glisten like gold' on the days of beautiful Russian sunsets.

Let it not be said that Mihailoff did not value or appreciate even his most simplistic properties.

All the while the man focused his attention to the water's unmoving edge, a small bucket, filled to the top with river water, held several small, barely hand-sized fish swimming inside. Each moved quickly, almost violently, around the fisherman's container, desperate for an exit as they struggled against one another for any hope of returning to their vast watery abode.

Mihailoff gave them small consideration. He understood all too well that his nightly fishing trips would soon be halted. Spring, though frigid, would soon be over with the coming of the long summer days. Days of very few nightly hours or a windy coolness to relax old skin with were coming to an end. And minding the thrashing of captured fish would spoil the composed mood he was intent on keeping. His focus, presently, would remain on the bauble, even as the sun began to cross over the mountains. He would enjoy the coolness of the time before the warm came again and he would otherwise be forced back into the cool insides of his residence.

_Perhaps I should get a few nice books together…hmm, with a cup of warm tea to help-no no no no! Focus!_

He pursed his lips tightly. Such pleasant thoughts were unbecoming for someone such as himself. Especially in a situation that, in his words, required 'dedication and unwavering attention to the art of the hunt!'

_Relax, Mikhail, relax. Focus. Watch the bauble…watch the bauble…watch the bauble…watch the-maybe I could lay my legs up by the fire with some licorice-__**FOCUS!**_

He shook his head, trying to put the disturbing thoughts away as he shifted in his seat.

_You are the hunter. You are the provider! Provider to yourself! You need this for evening meal!_

His eyes went back to the bauble. Again, they seemed unwavering.

One second passed.

Two seconds passed.

Then five seconds.

Then ten seconds.

Then fifteen.

Finally, a full twenty-three seconds passed with old, constant, firmly attentive eyes held straight on the fishing rod's attachment, held calmly in the water, were moved slowly towards the bucket.

…_One fish._

The old man thought calmly, quietly, as if the water itself could hear his thoughts.

_Two. Three. Four._

He made sure to try and not count the same ones over again.

_Seven…eight….oh, nine!_

The old man's mouth started to feel uncomfortably moist with anticipation of his next meal. Unbecoming, as he would declare it, but he could not deny how delightful a well-seasoned fish could be! So delectable, so tangy! With warm blanket on, slippers on feet and a warm cup of whatever he damned well wanted, the thought grew and grew and grew more tempting by the seconds of unaccomplished catching of fish in the night until finally a wonderful thought occurred -!

_Perhaps,_ he began, holding back an ever increasing desire to lick his dry lips, _this proposition bears __**some**__ good feeling at the present moment._

He tried to sound ever the noble knight of character that people viewed him as. 'Manners maketh man,' as an old fellow once told him in his 'younger years,' with the words, debatably, having the effect of making him the man he was today.

'Ever the impressive and ever the impressionist.'

He swore to be this to all which he would come to know.

However, in a Mihailoff-personal-perceived moment of weakness, he did ponder why must he wait on something when you could have it now? Certainly, it seemed the fish had grown wary of his hook and bait and all scurried to other places in search for less-risky meals. And to add to the point, his stomach was starting to make noises that, in the company of others, would have made the elder blush like a tomato next to flame. _A dignified man would not make such noises!_ He would tell the impressionable youths who enjoyed his grandfatherly attitude and charitable kindness. He always had a word or two for anyone willing to listen to what years and years of good health and wisdom brought to him.

And at the moment, wisdom and health were telling him to 'pick up the bucket, head inside, eat, relax, and spoil yourself, a bit.'

Again, he waited. For a moment. A _long_ moment.

He stared down to his bucket. The light of the lowering sun was gone. The water was dark but still unsettled by thrashing fish. The liquid which failed to keep into the bucket fell to the decks wooden surface; it did not seem to have frozen yet, but it seemed to be quickly chilling with frost.

The old man stared at the small bit of frosted water.

"…Ooooh, _bagh!_ Hell with it!" Mihailoff grumbled to himself; his voice noticeably hoarse with age. "Not exactly getting younger, am I?" He shook his head, displeased with his weakness at giving into his need to indulge in a feast of fine whitefish, but also passively growing content at the prospect of a fine evening meal.

He was not a perfect man. He was tolerable to this fact. Perfection was overrated, anyway.

And so, with a huff, a puff, and a reeling of his fisher's tool back into a nice, safe place to his side, Mihailoff straightened himself out from his chair, lifted the heavy bucket to his side and walked calmly towards his quiet abode.

He whistled a toon as he went.

* * *

_Twelve hours ago…_

The fish were _delicious_.

A light bit of seasoning, a drip sauce, a few vegetables to keep the old heart running, and a filling of thick milk to feel young again. It all added up to a perfect meal.

But even a flawless dish could only be so appetizing. If the atmosphere did not meet the standards made, well, then a fine meal would certainly come off short.

But this was Mihailoff's Manor. _Nothing_ came up short.

An old record player sat off to the far side of the lengthy dining area, playing calm, enthralling toons to add a sense of enjoyment and warmth to an otherwise quiet house. The crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling at the center of the room, illuminating the room magnificently, as the colored windows of the hall glistened with multiple hues of varying colors and mixes that, though their meaning and purposeful patterns were lost to the elder, Mihailoff nonetheless admired the vibrancy and exceptional craftsmanship put into them. The walls were wall-papered a shimmering gold which, contrary to what the old man had once thought during the particular room's development, really did touch nicely to compliment the rest of the area's grandiose appearance. And finally, the flooring; so smooth, clean and reflective it could have been _eaten_ from.

A friend of his once said that the manor's dining hall was 'most assuredly touched and blessed by the angels in heaven above.' Mihailoff, in turn, could only attempt to holdback a most-boisterous laugh at such a statement; agreeing regardless.

But now, with the meal done and nothing remaining on the old man's plate but a few bones, some crumbs and sauce, Mikhail was thoroughly filled with his small feast, now smiling and patting his lips with a fine piece of linen cloth to clear away food that had made its way into his beard.

"A finer meal could not be found," he said to himself, blushing red from the fervidity of his feast. "Yes, yes! Fine, _indeed!_" His laugh after was bellyful – patting said 'belly' too – and marveled for a moment on how plump he was in his old age.

_Soon, I'll lose sight of my toes! And then, who knows?!_

He laughed again as he swept up his utensils and plates then after, scraping off crumbs and wiping away his dining materials in the sink, all the while humming the toon that played on his old player. He wiped his hands dry, made sure to leave the kitchen cleaner than when he entered, and walked down the long hallway towards the seeming entrance of his mansion, only coming about halfway through before stopping at a small, out-of-place door…

* * *

In every household there are rooms that aren't meant to be entered.

This isn't necessarily because what's behind the door is anything morally wrong, illegal or containing anything that might cause the homeowner's embarrassment. As is most often the case, it is for the exact opposite; such as for reasons involving the need privacy and personal comfort. Comfort which needn't be trespassed or tampered with; a sanctuary, if you would, from the harassments of the world. Examples, such as a bedroom or personal office, are common cases of rooms that aren't meant to be disturbed by outside 'invaders.' Rooms which needed invitation before entering.

Curiously, this concept was largely contrasted by Mihailoff Manor.

Mikhail, in his usual friendly manner, openly _encouraged_ exploration of his estate. The indoor pool, the state-of-the-art kitchens, the comfortable bedrooms – if you could touch it, see it, or even breathe the air of a particular room, the estate's owner did not hesitate to embolden the 'explorer' into discovering whatever there was behind the 'mysteries' of his home.

And in that way, the elder's mansion was not unlike some large museum with a built-in home. Frequent visitors would often find some odd device or scripture from Mihailoff's adventurous days. Sometimes a singular figure or group would find some useful utensil or device that would keep their attention for hours to come. And on occasion – especially with the case of the older generation or those new to the home owner's hospitality – there would be a particularly fascinating room or corner of the building that held some sort of peace and quiet to it that, even if it was just for a moment, either during a party or holiday get-together, held by their generous host, one felt almost_incapable_ of not taking some solitary moment to enjoy the tranquility of the Mihailoff Manor.

The estate, like Mikhail, could be described as an almost open book. Both held knowledge of the world and antiquities unfounded anywhere. To deny anyone the opportunity to see, experience or enlighten themselves of the other would have felt like a _crime_ to the old man.

Almost every room, ever area, every antiquity, ever _crevice_ was available to be searched, looked upon and marveled by the public eye.

…The key word here, however, is_ almost._

There was one room kept secluded from the mansion's visitors. A room which neither dinner guest nor holiday company had been allowed entry to. A room held behind a simple wooden door, sitting in hallway between one of the living rooms and the front door.

The door to the room was understandably eye-catching. It was the only door down the hallway from the front, and the only door in the entirety of the foundation which wasn't something of a remarkable make or design.

It was simple wood – disturbingly simple in looks and making. In fact, compared to the clear-white walls and _striking_ pieces of historic art it stood beside, the door was a blot on an otherwise _perfect_ abode. And to many, this small, uninteresting and unimposing door was the undoubtedly the mansion's greatest mystery.

And the reason: the door was locked.

Locked. Locked with key. A room locked without window or door-crack or small opening to view into. A room held to a place untouched or seen by the eyes of others, in a place where explorative emotions and ambitions ran wild in without care or reason for fret. A room closed to the world, if by only the small metal trigger that only moved if touched by the distinctive little key that was always kept in a secret, special, _constantly guarded_ location.

This location happened to be Mihailoff's back-jean's pocket (no one ever seems to think to look for a key in an old man's trousers).

What was in this room, many curious minds have asked. Some wondered if it was golds or metals of exquisite nature. Some were curious if there was some sort or sentimental value of importance to it that only a rich and learned mind such as Mihailoff's could value. Some, children and joking teens, mostly, accused the room to be some secret layer to the underworld or some hellish zone from which Mihailoff sold the souls of youngsters to jinxes and demons in order to feed his wealthy estate with unimaginable wonders (and one weird guy down the way thought it was just a room to a fancy shitter, but most people just ignored that lackluster theory).

But back to the present.

Mihailoff twisted his arm around to his back, reaching below to the smooth opening of pants' back area, fumbling with the old key for only the briefest of moments (old hands, weak strength) before placing the old marked-brass key into the doorway's slot. With a quick twist and a ringing of the doorway's lock, the elder man twisted the handle tightly, noting it's need for oil, and pressed the door forward with an audible –

_Crreeeeeeeeeeeaaak…_

The door opened slowly.

The room inside was dark.

Mihailoff moved carefully, dragging his feet to the ground so as not to step on anything unwanting to be stepped on. He kept the door outside the room open; there was no light to be found in the room, no electric switch to power any chandelier or lightbulb to power. The room was dark and without any other means to view its innards, the only light coming from the hallway was the old man's means of navigating to the wooden stand at the far of the unlit space.

There was a candle on the wooden stand. And next to it, some matches. Old fashioned, scratch-to-light matches. They appeared old and worn, in truth, but Mikhail, after a few tries, managed to get one lit enough to light the candle piece.

"And then there was light," the old man joked to himself, blowing at the match before lifting the candle in his free hand.

He held it high to his chin, alighting the room in a golden glow.

* * *

A library.

The room was a library.

A library as tall as the mansion was; as wide as a house, and holding more books than a man could have ever hoped to read in a single lifetime. A library with heated floors – carpet, in fact, which still felt newly placed and easy on worn feet – and walls a dark-colored paint which matched the bookshelves stretching to the ceiling. The artistry of each bookshelf was smoothed, hand-crafted pieces of masterful artistry – exquisite designing which could easily have held months' worth of sweat and careful development put into them. Each corner and crevice of the room appeared to be in a condition of remarkable cleanliness and conditioning that any proprietor of narratives would be absolutely delighted with.

Even with only that single candle to give that room its light, to the mansion's owner, the library stood as impressive in viewing as it had in its finishing stages of assembly.

And this room was for Mihailoff and Mihailoff alone.

Why, would be the question asked; _why_ was this room for his use only? Why was the man – a man who casually claimed 'secrets were for chumps' to his neighbors and friends – keeping such a trove of archived works and scripts away from the eyes of others?

Was it for selfish reasons? Was it for some sense of personal pride to a collection only he felt worthy enough to peruse? Both ideas sounded obtuse – even downright _puerile_ – when linking them to such a man as casual and openhearted as Mikhail Mihailoff. And yet, there the room lied; kept from the world's sight by a single locked door and an owner's unflinching resolve to remain otherwise mysterious, infallible, or even generally unhelpful to those who sought an admission to the single true mystery of Oymyakon's manor.

Mihailoff's personal study was his closely kept secret – his refuge from the world.

It held fond memories within, treasured novels lining the chiseled bookshelves, and perhaps even a few secrets _within_ the secret, as well…

But more on that later.

At the present, old man Mihailoff found himself going around his personal library with candle in hand, lighting several candle stands notched into the walls to give the room a rather eerie, yellowish glow. The purpose behind this move, as was so often the case when the old man felt the need for some private moments away from the world, was so that he might best be able to 'set the mood' for whatever novel he was interested in perusing.

As should be noted, the old man was held no negative feeling towards indoor appliances or comforts. In fact, by his opinion over his long life: indoor plumbing? _Brilliant_. But in the initial construction of his sizable study, however, he specifically dictated that the room would _not_ be given any of the wonder home applications that were not under his specific qualifications. No electricity, no plumbing, no air ventilation, not even a window – a room of complete medieval setting and devoid of anything resembling a technologically-modern comfort or the world outside.

It was only him, his books, his study and the comfort in knowing he was alone.

After closing the door with a 'clack' that echoed loudly around him, Mihailoff went about lighting the other candles strewn around his room. Held by simple holders, nailed to any corner of his room not near enough to his precious literatures, the candles numbered an even half-a-dozen, each brightening the room with comfortable glow. With each candle lit, the room seemed to grow in size, as more and more of what was hidden in the recesses of his dark abode became alit. It was a wonderful little space, if little was a word to describe it. And when all the wicks were lit and illuminating his silent sanctuary in a pleasant radiance, the old man headed to a large desk at the far end of the room, with one remaining candle in hand and a still pleased expression to his face.

* * *

Mihailoff's Desk.

A black ink pen of simple design. A large novel of leatherback. Some white sheet paper stacked in a corner. And most curiously of all, a large blue-and-white tea pot placed carefully over a small gas burner, already filled from a night or two before with surprisingly still cold water. These odd assortments of items were strewn across the fine teakwood desk with an obvious caring for their positioning. Each one was perfectly straightened, perfectly aligned with the wood work in perfect angles with the desk and the other items. It was all so organized and complimenting – even the desk chair pressed itself neatly with exactly a half-an-inch between itself and the desk so neither was grazing or, God forbid, _grinding_ against one another.

This whole assortment, coupled with the even number of candles, carefully alphabetized literatures and prudently polished woodwork, made the whole room seem like some OCD gentleman's wet dream. And while true that his arrangement of neatly tidied items would only be seen for his benefit, why disappoint himself on the design and flow of his workplace? Ever the prideful man, Mihailoff oft considered the idea of disappointing himself just as distasteful as disappointing another.

And so, placing his candle neatly onto the desk and pulling the chair back for his posterior to lay itself comfortably down, Mihailoff felt the strain of old bones leave him while allowing a comfortable breath to escape.

"_Ahhh._"

As his back sank into the chair's back, Mihailoff felt what seemed like a great weight relieving itself from the pulling and restraining of his upper back. It was no small relief – he would swear his bones were starting to creak and tear after only ten minutes out of a seat.

_Curse old age and the wears that came with it!_

It was a hindrance not easily ignored. A fault that came with the wisdom and wrinkling of skin. And at times, he would think to himself, especially on the cold, hard days of life; how long did he have left?

Only on occasion did this question come to mind. He would wonder when he would finally find need to relieve himself of this slouched and slowed form, but finding himself hesitant in even considering such thoughts.

He had time. Truly, he still had time…

He reached his hands onto the desk, giving the wood a light tap of his knuckles before reaching towards the small gas burner. Twisting the small nobs on its metal, which were purposefully aimed towards his chair for convenience, he allowed the small heater to click its miniscule flame to life. The small kettle above would heat quickly, so reaching into the drawer to his left, second from the bottom, Mihailoff pulled out a small, carefully placed packet of leaves, green in color, and lifted them to the side. Reaching into the right drawer, third from the top (and quite a difficult reach for the elderly fellow), he lifted a plain ceramic cup.

He placed the two drawer items side by side and looked to the heating water, waiting (he was attentive like that).

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Four minutes.

Done.

A sharp whistle cried from the kettle pot, echoing loudly in the large room. Mihailoff didn't waste any time; he ripped the leaves from their plastic holder, dropped them with a less than gracious toss into the cup, and picked the kettle from the burner with quick enthusiasm.

_PSSSSSssssssssssssSSSST!_

The heated water poured into the cup without issue. The steam rising from it in an almost enticing way that promised soothing warmth and tasteful pleasure.

Mihailoff filled his cup to a little half its fill before putting the pot down onto its burner. Additionally, he remembered to turn _off_ the burner before any accidents occurred; he recalled a few times were his negligence had cost him a few days' worth of burned fingers to know that 'safety came first' in his old age (and if not his fingers, what if one of his books was even slightly singed – OH, what a horrible thought!).

He took careful, miniscule sips at first-

"Ooh, ooh, ooooh!"

-and promptly burned his tongue.

"Bragu, braduwa, snipedoodely-"

His attempts at cursing were hindered by his burnt mouth and personal adherence to cursing (as a gentleman would have no need to use such _reprehensible_ language).

It was rather silly and crude, really.

"Ffwh, ffwh, ffwh!"

He tried to cool the liquid in the cup; taking quick paced breaths and blowing as hard as his withered lips would allow into the overly warm drink.

After a couple moments, he tried again.

"Phhhhrp…_aaaahh._"

This effort was met with much more satisfaction.

The positively relaxed sigh that escaped the elderly fellow's lips was followed by another quick sip of his drink and a deep sag of the body, relaxing into his chair. The look on his bearded, warm face was that of absolute bliss as he continued to sip earnestly into the now delightfully delicious beverage while his eyes wandered the lengthy room, gazing over books and scrolls and other texts. His appreciation for the design and layout of his abode was strongly felt as he checked several notches and marks that most certainly held several months' worth of effort placed into them. He'd known many fascinating, extravagant, and sometimes _otherworldly_ sights in his life. But few would compare to his library.

Taking another sip of his tea, enjoying its warmth alongside the calm, silent and undisturbed stillness of his library, Mihailoff felt at peace in his own, private, impressive dwelling…

That is, until a voice, like a _nail_ dragging itself across a chalkboard, disturbed his serenity.

* * *

"_Mikhail_ _Mihailoff."_

Tea shot from the elderly man's mouth, spraying over his desk in a misty vapor. He coughed and gagged on his breath, trying to reclaim it as his book fell to the ground. The shock that came with it rolled through him, stirring him violently, before managing a brief return of his bearings and turning violently around the, seemingly vacant room.

He was still in his chair, already starting to sweat, but he was certain old age hadn't made him imagine the sound…had he? "What-ai-who?! Huh? Who-who-is-is there someone…?"

There was a brief pause. Not long, but long enough. For the briefest moment, Mihailoff truly believed he'd simply heard a trick of his ears and would have laughed it off as the troubles that came with old age.

But the voice spoke again.

"_You are a difficult man to find."_

Same as before, the voice spoke into the dimly lit library, resounding across the corners of the room. For Mihailoff, 'unsettling' didn't begin to describe the feeling that reverberated through his person.

"_**Very**__ difficult."_

The old man still stirred in his chair, turning his head around in the room, only now cursing his lack of sufficient lighting. But where could the voice-owner hide in such a room as his library?

"_I was only given a name, a face, and a guess where you were. 'The Sakha Republic.' Do you know how big that is?"_

"I-I-I-"

Mikhail did not. But at that moment, the old man looked as if he couldn't have told someone his own _name_.

"_One-point-one __**million**__ square miles. They expected __**me**__ to find __**you**__ in all of __**that**__."_

Mihailoff's unseen intruder cared little for the elder's stammering. Of note, the voice didn't seem particularly malicious, despite its unsettling temperance, but neither was it calm or easy sounding that the mansion owner could feel comforted.

It would best be described as having a tone of…irritation.

Like 'someone-who-just-woke-up-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-bed' irritable.

Grouchy. That was the word.

And as the voice spoke in the candlelit room, the elder, perhaps as a way of trying to make sense of the peculiarity that had invaded his abode, tried to place the accent to one of the many he'd heard in his long life.

He couldn't.

He ran the words and the tone through his jittered, panicked mind thrice.

No clear indication of the voice's national origin.

That made it worse.

"_One little man in one little part of Russia. And I needed to do it in a weekend? Do you have __**any**__ idea how annoying that was?"_

There was the sound of footsteps to the right of the desk. Mikhail turned his head, quick as his weakened and frail neck could twist…

And held a _scream_ to the back of his throat.

Blond hair, dark black-and-orange coat, similarly colored pants and dark brown boots. Mihailoff wasn't sure what he expected from such an _unnatural_ voice but this colorful visage-wearing man wasn't it. And even calling this fellow a 'man' was stretching the definition; the intruder was a youth, perhaps in his teens or so, but the way he held himself tall and straight with a pair of clear blue eyes staring down the elderly man down with what felt like some invisible force of will not to be challenged or toyed with.

His presence was so obvious – so striking – the mansion's owner could only hazard a guess as to how he could ever have _missed_ such an obvious person standing comfortably at his side.

But at the moment, Mihailoff was cowering _far_ too heavily to even ask.

"Meh-mrr-memm-umm-hmm-hrrmmr-hurm-"

Unintelligible gibbering. The intruder ignored him. "No sleep. No rest. Only a few crackers to nibble on. I looked into every town, every deserted home, every _remotely_ questionable corner looking for you." He moved, slowly, to stand by the desk. It was the only thing separating the two men; that waist-high woodwork. "I got lucky finding this place. Oymyakon. Found it following a river down, working off a hunch. It isn't even on most maps, did you know that? If I decided to just keep going west past the river…well…" The home invader shrugged, shaking his head. "If I kept going west…oh man, I am getting too old for this." He laughed, loud and holding maybe even a little embarrassment behind it. Mihailoff couldn't have guessed the reasons. The boy made little sense – _too old?_ – but he wasn't about to call him on it. He'd met too many crazies in his life to know questioning their mannerisms or quirks was a dangerous and unhealthy option to take.

So instead, after managing to find a brief control over what was his voice, the old man asked the questions that buggered the tip of his tongue.

"W-w-wh-who-who-who…" He couldn't even begin to ask his first question. He shook himself, feeling his nerves growing by the second, but tried to harden himself, even for a moment. "Wh-why-why are you h-h-h-_here_?"

He was surprised he managed to get the words outright, despite the stutter.

In response, the blond lifted his head, meeting the man's eyes again with his hard blue. "I'm here to finish a job."

"…O-oh." The elder of Oymyakon wasn't sure what he expected but it wasn't that. "W-well I-I-I'm afraid I d-don't know what w-work you mean," he told the boy, trying to smile and look for a way to, perhaps, ease the situation towards a peaceful conclusion, contrary to how the boy held himself on the other side of the desk, "I-I-I'm af-f-fraid I don't have any-y-y work I can g-give you, bu-but I-I can try and-and look for one in t-town, if you would, uh, allow me some t-t-t-time…"

The intruder's eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms, looking down at the man in his chair. He didn't look to be in even the most _remote_ of joking moods.

And his next words proved this all the more: "Have you ever heard of 'The Boston Strangler?'"

_Brief struggles. Hand or cloth around the neck. Strangle. No life._

The mansion's owner shuddered. "I-I'm sorry?"

"'The Axeman of New Orleans?' Heard of him?"

_Sharpened iron connected to wood. Heads on floor. Dead. Blood everywhere._

Mikhail looked as if he were starting to contract _hives_. "I-I-I-I d-d-don't know w-w-w-w-who-"

"'Phantom Killer?' 'Black Doodler?' 'Jack the Ripper?' Any of those?" The intruder's tone was hardened; his voice carried over the weak sounds of the elder. "Or maybe I should be more specific: Tom Thomson? A guy from Canada. Painter. Heard of him? His body was found floating on a lake. Julia Wallace? Found dead in her house, beaten. Do you know her?"

He old man shook his head, heart was beating hard now, his hand unconsciously to his chest in an attempt to settle its rough beats.

_Body floating. Face down. No movement._

_Girl bruised purple. On the ground. No blood. Internal damage. Never going to wake._

The aged Mihailoff was an individual of vivid imagination and excellent storytelling skills. He always refrained from the darker subjects of life, instead opting to tell children of heroes vanquishing monsters and usurping evil kings with glorious ability, strength and charisma. He never went into the dark tales or morbid stories he knew. It was the general belief of the townspeople that the man avoided the dark stuff, not out of preservation for the children's innocence, but for the fact the man was weak-willed and would nearly faint at the mere mention of some horrific event. He was kind, generous, joyful – but old and frail of heart.

These talks of beaten women and drowned painters were proving too much. The imagery appearing into his mind –

It hurt.

"P_-please."_ He begged, holding his chest. "S_-_s_-stop. _I have a c-_condition."_

"John Clayton, American politician, shot? William the Second, King of England, arrow in the chest?" The teen's tone was hard, ignoring the scared man's frantic pleas. "How about Moctezuma the Second? His death brought war to an entire kingdom. John Gill? Eight year old kid, parents couldn't even recognize him. Marilyn Monroe?Come on, you have to know that one!"

_Chest bleeding. Bolt piercing. Old king dead._

_Child. Unnatural looking._

_Beautiful woman. No breath._

The elder coughed violently, wilting in his chair. "This-this is…please…_no more_."

"I know you, Mihailoff. I _know_ you." The intruder placed his hands at the edge of the desk, leaning towards the cowering man. His irresponsiveness and shivering character seemed to annoy the blond further and further. "The estimates, the rumors, even the pure _speculation_ on what you have done. I've seen it.

"And from what I've gathered, it was done with a _smile_."

The boy wasn't mincing words.

"_Argh-arr! Ple-e-ease! STOP!_"

Mihailoff continued to place his hand to his chest. His heart was straining. His focus split between his intruder and the pain.

"You know those people. I know you do and I know you killed them." Mikhail's eye twitched unpleasantly. "It's all a game to you. A joke. You _killed_ them because you could. Something to pass the time. Mikhail Mihailoff, or whatever you call yourself; you move from place to place, killing on a scale, efficiency or just a level of_ evil_ that is remembered for centuries." The youth's eyes narrowed as the man struggled further. "I've heard some of the stories – you're actually pretty famous. A true 'boogeyman.' Your knack for carnage is the inspiration for horror stories and black books.

"Sometimes you don't do it for years – _decades_ – but when you do, people don't forget. How could they?" The youth swallowed something harshly, looking as if he remembered something putrid. "But now? Now you're waiting; waiting here for reasons I can't even begin to guess. Does it involve the town? This house? What are you after, Mihailoff? Talk!"

His words were too much. The loudness, the tension, and even the increasing aggression were nothing short of startling.

"_Agh…I…I can't breathe…"_

"Talk, old man. TALK! Why are you here?"

"_Ahh…no…can't…mercy-"_

The blond grit his teeth, bringing his hand back and making a fist.

"_Stop._"

**SLAM!**

The desk's contents jumped at the blow of his fist on the fine wood, resonating in the library. The intruder's eyes were wide, his face a practical _snarl,_ while his fists tightened enough that the veins bulged prominently through his arms. The entire visage was done with the intent to intimidate; a skill, though unaware to the seemingly in-pain old man, that was brought upon from years of physical discipline, training and, at that moment, _natural aggression._

"_STOP. __**ACTING.**_"

That did it.

Mihailoff fell from his chair, coughing and holding his chest, shaking and holding himself by his knees. Wave after wave of agonizing, numbing pain flowed through him. Sweat was falling down his forehead, with every cough allowing his saliva to touch his carpeted floors. His eyes were closed, trying to erase the seemingly inhumane pain. The old man shook, whimpered, said words that could only be heard by his own ears, making an appearance and show of an elderly, weakened, distraught, timeworn elder being bullied by this aggravated teen who'd invaded the privacy of his home.

He cried.

And cried.

And cried.

And cried some more.

He was on the ground, writhing in pain. His features were covered in wet tears, down as far as to his neck. His person, so contrasting to the knightly-formality he kept himself at routinely, was daunting to view.

Such a pitiful sight – Mihailoff, looking broken, cringing as every bloody image assaulted his well-kept, pure, pacifistic mind…

…for about thirty-seven seconds, until the whimpering man lifted his head, meeting the blond's gaze again,and_ smiled,_ from ear to ear, with unhindered _glee_.

"_Whoops_." Mikhail Mihailoff giggled. "_Looks like you_ _caught me…!"_

* * *

_Eleven hours ago…_

Mihailoff laughed loudly; with old lungs roaring bellyful sounds with vigor, the formerly distraught man of Oymyakon stood from his previous downed position with an unusually spry kick to his feet.

Mihailoff clapped to the boy. "Hoohoohoo! Wow. Just, _wow!_ I almost _cannot_ believe it!" He looked taller than before – able to look his intruder in the eye – standing high and straight from behind his desk. "Bravo, young man! BRAVO! Excellent de-_tective_ skills!" He was emphasizing the words by their syllables. His tone, now high-pitched and with a hint of giggling, was a sharp contrast from his squabbling seconds before. "Heeheeheehee! Oh, you have no _idea_ how gleeful I am right now! I mean, _Jeez __**Louise!**_ Talk about waiting for-_ever!_ I thought you monkeys would take another _millennia_ at the speed you were working to find me!"

He slapped his knee – absolutely jubilant – moving around the desk towards a glass cabinet at the side of the room, looking ready to almost skip with glee.

The intruder followed him with his eyes.

"Glorious day-_glorious day!_ I swear, it's been _centuries_ since I've been this _exquisitely ecstatic!"_ Mihailoff bellowed, opening the glass cabinet and producing a pair of glasses – both made of fine crystal – along with a dark, slender bottle from his own collection. Mihailoff calmed briefly, looking quite satisfied as he looked at the bottle's dark contents.

"Chateau Cheval Blanc. 1947. Pris_-tine _con-_dition!_" He chuckled some more, quickly removing the bottle's cork with quick enthusiasm. He didn't wait long to fill the two glasses, watching the red liquid swivel and move smoothly before placing the bottle back to the cabinet's top and lifting the two glasses. His smile never dulled, turning around to his blond trespasser and lifting his filled glass. "Do you partake?"

To the boy's credit, he did sneak a small glance to the offered glass before moving his eyes back to the man. "…Underage, I'm afraid."

The mansion's owner only laughed. "I won't tell if you won't." He tempted, but was only met with stern silence this time, earning continued fierceness from the boy's features. Mikhail, not put-off, only shrugged. "More for me, then," he drank the glass's contents, finishing it quickly then moving to the other glass and repeating the indulgence in quick succession. "Aaaah! Worth _every_ penny!" He put the glasses down, filling one again to the brink before, more calmly, sipping on its contents.

"Aaaah, _perfection!_ So, my intrusive young fellow," he turned his eye back to the boy, "might I be so bold as to wonder aloud a few questions of your time, perhaps? I just have some of those nagging, elderly inquiries in the back of my head that I am afraid just _won't_ go away." Another sip. "_Ahhh._ Tell me: you mentioned _someone_ gave you an idea where I was, am I right?"

The boy didn't respond.

Didn't matter though, Mihailoff heard him well enough.

"And, if I may be so bold, could I inquire as to _whom_ this individual was? You know, for personal recognition's sake? It's not everyday someone, or a group of someone's, gets the better of me."

Again, no response.

_Huh. And I thought blonds loved to talk._ "My apologies if knowledge of my 'temporally-far-reaching-escapades' soured the mood." He chuckled, taking yet another long sip. "I just seem to have one of those mouths that just won't stop talking, hoo-hoo! Hmm-hmm!" Mihailoff shook with laughter. He was, without question, enjoying himself immensely. "Oh, but please, what other of my exploits are you aware of? You've barely even _touched_ on my best work! Surely you would be interested in hearing a few of my favorites, hmm?"

He scratched his chin in consideration.

"How about…the conspiracy against Julius Caesar? At the time, I was playing the small part of a moderately wealthy, moderately influential Roman senator. But when I even '_vaguely'_ suggested the idea to some guy from Rhodes, he ate it up like it was the greatest thing ever said!

"Now, history recalls several men stabbing the tyrant into a mangled corpse, but out of those twenty-three fatal stabs, I'm pretty sure I dealt _at least_ half of them.

"But perhaps you'd prefer a more recent example, hmm? Say, like the time I dealt with the Douglas Clan? Are you familiar with them? They have that crest with a flaming salamander thing? Anyway, I might've, kind of, _sort of_convinced the king of Scotland – who was only a ten year old, crying, cat-loving _boy_ at the time – that _maybe_ the Douglas Clan was getting _perhaps_ a little too powerful for their own good. That _maybe_ the king's chancellor should see to the matter of 'weakening' the clan with a little show of power on his part.

"So, with a little 'sweet talking' from myself, a little dinner for some Douglas' head honchos, a little kidnapping followed with a small trial and-BANG! Off with their heads! Heheheh, I even got to play the part of executioner! It was an out_-standing_ night!

"On the other hand, of all my achievements, I most _certainly_ cannot forget one of my 'crowning-jewels-of-cleverness' during the late sixteenth century. Oh yes! It does hold a special place in my heart. Its spec-_tacularly_ achieved elegance would marvel and boggle the mind! It was truly an astonishment of ability that surprised, even myself! Who knew I had such creativity, such ability, such _cunning_ at my disposal!

"Well, I can certainly tell you, the people of _Roanoke_ had no such idea! HAHAHAH! Oh, what a time, what a time! Oh, but before you ask, I afraid I shan't go into details – some things are so beautiful and superbly done that even_I _fail to put into words how truly captivating my work was."

He laughed. He kept laughing. He laughed a laugh so bellyful; taking shot after shot of his drink with every 'grand detail' he could think of.

"But, in lieu of this most encouraging audience, let me simply leave you with this little tidbit about what occurred on the small colony of the not-even-quite-yet United States:

"What happened was simple.

"What happened was _effective_.

"And what happened was _**glorious**_."

He paused, briefly, before adding quietly with absolute look of peace.

"And that doesn't even _begin_ to tell what I've accomplished on _other worlds…_"

* * *

What was Naruto Uzumaki to make of this – this _flaunting_ of murder?

Mihailoff openly boasted his success in the art of killing in the past centuries – even _millennia_ – before. Successes of murders long unsolved and long foreboded as the worst and most terrifying the human world had ever known.

How was he supposed to react to such admittance?

To be certain, in Naruto's time, murder and assassinations were by no means uncommon. During the time of the ninja, at least before the Fourth Shinobi World War (big affair, unnecessary to current events) and the grand alliance of his village with several major powers around the continent, such actions were common amongst high level individuals. They paid well and yielded significant cliental respect for years to come. Any ninja with years of service and several successful 'off-the-record' (or better known as 'S-Rank') assignments under their belts were given privileges and respect from the people pertaining to that dangerous area of work.

These missions – as they were commonly referred to as – worked around the desire of removing of less-to-exceptionally important individuals in various points of the world. These works were done with professionalism, secrecy and were by no means in anyway supposed to be tied back to the village (this meant that flaunting of a 'job' was a punishable, capital offense). But even with a ninja's life work revolving around tasks that might have once been ridiculed, or even spurned by the general public if they had been found out, these assignments were done for the sake of village preservation and business. They were not orchestrated simply for the sake of killing or eliminating an individual just for existing.

In other words: blind murder was _not_ the Shinobi way.

Looking at the frail man and thinking on his 'performance,' Naruto was curiously reminded of certain schoolgirl-gossips he knew back at Kuoh. Funny little girls with funny little quirks; after discovering a particularly delightful piece of chatter from who knows where, wished to share it to the world in the most excitable, enticing way possible. Mihailoff similarly seemed to be trying to 'wow' and amaze his singular audience with familiarity and casual details to his historical exploits. He worked to reveal and hold back information to whatever he discussed, an attempt that built the suspense of his work in such a way which, admittedly, begged the attention and curiosity of those who would dare listen. The dramatization of his work and use of tone that came off as pretentiousness was not dissimilar to that of some orator or over-the-top villain in a spy film. His larger-than-life attitude, use of arm movements and excitable declarations were undoubtedly eye-catching.

Again, curiously, these motions also had a way of reminding the blond about a 'Freed Sellzen.' Although, where there was evident madness in the rogue exorcist's maneuverings and murders, Mikhail Mihailoff came off quite differently than the crazed churchmen.

Whereas Sellzen had seemed like every definable word in any language to describe a sociopathic-homicidal zealot, Mihailoff instead appeared like some showman; parading himself to a crowd of onlookers for the sake of entertainment.

In contrast to Sellzen, Mihailoff's act made him seem _quite_ sane.

"How many people?" He asked after a moment. This was the question, above the ideas and wonders of just who this man was, that had plagued him since his search began, and even far beforehand.

He _had_ to ask.

In return, Mihailoff offered an unsure shrug. "Humans? Non-humans? Near-humans? I'm afraid I'd have to give you the same answer on all of them." He took another sip of his rich liquor. "I've lost count."

It was at this point the control was starting to dwindle. "_What are you?_"

"_Human_." The wrinkled man answered quickly, lowering his drink to the cabinet. "What? Did you perhaps expect me to say something dramatic? A creature of some rarity or uncommonness? Despite my less than societally acceptable actions, I assure you I was most certainly born and raised on this planet. With my own history, my own account, and my own _story_."

He leaned his back against the glass cabinet then, casually looking to his intruder.

He studied the boy again.

"My own story…what a long, sad, and _terrible _thing, it is."

He paused for a moment. His eyes went distant. He gestured to his person.

"How this came to be was more about a matter of _luck_ than anything else. Certainly a story I'm sure you wouldn't find of interest."

He was goading the boy. Being a natural storyteller was something of a pastime for him, and seeing as he never actually had such a time in his life to express what he was or how he came to be, this particular tale seemed to hang a mere inch from his tongue – practically _begging_ to be told.

It was a story he never told a soul. What made him so interested to tell this odd burglar his story? Was it one part fascination, one part personal desire and another part curiosity? Curiosity to see how this boy would react?

He waited for the youth but the blond did not speak.

Perhaps he was interested; perhaps he was merely biding his time.

But a brief pause of self-thought and consideration, Mihailoff decided it didn't matter -

\- and so started his tale. "I was a curious child, once upon a time. I was an even more inquisitive man, a time after that. I was…oh, how should I put it? I suppose you would have called me a 'doctor,' though the title was more akin to 'man-witch' in my people's word. I was the man mixed the grasses, pounded herbs and berries and mushrooms into whatever people asked me to. But, being the 'witch,' I was poorly represented. My people would curse me, attempt to burn my products and scorn me for my practices. BUT, every now and then, they would come on their knees and _beg_ for help with the sick or injured." He shrugged. "And I did. I bandaged their weak and helped bring back those close to the grave. I did it with enthusiasm – did it with purpose and _passion!_ I fought and lost many hours of rest seeking to better and help the lives of downtrodden.

"And I was good. I was very, _very_ good."

There was a smile to his face; pride and approval for his past work was evident.

But the gratified smirk was soon replaced by a stern gaze.

"But come the following moon, they were back to their old annoyances. The silent whisperings; the cross looks; avoiding me like _I_ was the one with the sickness. As if _I_ were the one who threatened the village with spreading rash or the coughs. _Bagh_, stupid children and their stupid judgements. There was one who even had the _gall_ to ruin an old man's leg," he stomped his right leg thrice to the wood flooring. It didn't appear to have issue now. "Laughing and barking and taunting like a fool. No principle or conscious to him. I remember – I REMEMBER – his eye was _cruel_ and his smile _dark_. And the funny thing: a few moons after, I'm saving the _exact_ man who would have crippled me for life!" His laugh was bitter, voice rising into a shout. "How _weak_ – how _obtuse_ – I was! I would rather have lived with a leg that would never run or handle the earth's weight without aid than have my vengeance against the _gutless_ _filth_ that did the deed and _laughed!_"

He took a moment. It seemed even he was being riled from such a story.

His audience listened.

"I was sixty. He was twenty. A naïve youth, yes, but a twisted one. The moment I saved his life and told him he would live; can you guess what he did?"

Naruto didn't speak. He only guessed – correctly so, as it turned out.

"He _spat in my face_…and _**laughed!**_"

Mihailoff's hand went up and slammed its flat palm to the wooden desk. Its contents – the tea-filled cup, the lit candle and the inkwell – all bounced violently to his act.

"I lost my leg; he had his laughs. Had destiny not come knocking at my door, _literally_, my life might have just ended as some nameless cripple in a wooden shack."

He paused, then decided to reach out for the cooled tea. He took a sip of his drink – a long, hearty sip. The taste certainly mixed with the wine from before, not that he seemed to mind.

When the cup left his bearded face, it seemed he'd relaxed some.

"I had an Angel visit me one day. The 'Great War,' as the Biblical races called it – wait, sorry, are you familiar with them? Devils, Angels? They exist, in case you were wondering. Anyway, barring over excessive details to supernatural, paranormal and mythological subjects, an Angel just so happened to come knocking at my door with a hole in his abdomen the size of a grapefruit on an early morning in spring.

"At first, I thought it was some sort of bizarre harpy or winged-man. Not many people were overly familiar with anything religious at that time and even fewer on races whose sentience spread further than 'eat, sleep, mate, repeat.'

"He asked for my assistance. Crying and bleeding on my floors. And, to my own admittance, I was a talented doctor. But to fix a hole in the stomach? Through an Angel? There was nothing I could do to stop his death, though I did manage to ease his pain in passing.

"The hours passed after that. I sat in my home, watching the Angel's corpse, not sure what to do with it. No one ever died in my home before; I felt invaded, I recall. People did not routinely come into my hut to lie down and die. And all the while the white-winged creature laid at my feet, ever glowing even as the life faded from his body, I expected someone, or-or _something,_ to fly down from the sky to snatch him up. Or at least come searching to be done for a missing, feathered-fellow with a hole in his front. Would have made sense to me.

"But, as it turned out, no one came looking for him. No one. Not a single winged man, woman, child or anything remotely resembling an out of the norm occurrence to everyday life. It is only by my guessing today that, perhaps, his fellow Angels had assumed the worst and left. Left to go fight some battle of 'legendary proportions.' Never quite found out, to be frankly honest…

"So, there I was, with a dead avian-man in my hut. Blood everywhere. Now, and I might have mentioned this already, I was curious about a great many things, and being a doctor of some familiarity with animal innards, the insides of an otherworldly being was an opportunity of intriguing proportions. I mean, call me _mad_, but the Angel wasn't going to use whatever was still swirling inside him.

"So I decided, after some time to collect my thoughts and breath, 'what would be so terrible with taking a peak at a birdman's innards?'

"Took me _days_ to find the right tools to cut into its skin. The body was as dense as _stone_. It never decayed – never smelled – and always stayed in im-_peccable_ conditioning.

"I took out what I thought looked unique or different from the human system I was familiar with. Lungs, bones, things that looked like livers. Nearly everything inside the Angel was either glowing, a peculiar color, or shocked me when I prodded it too hard.

"I tried to break down or mix or grind whatever I could into something tangible. Something exotic. Professional curiosity, you may not understand. But how many people get to work on an Angel's corpse without it, you know,_exploding_ after death? And they do that, by the way. Heartbeat stops, they go _boom_. Messy stuff. But a magnificent lightshow. Happened on my second, fourth, and _seventh_ Angel. Anyway, I got lucky; managed to remove some organs, some bones and veins before the thing just _dissolved_ into mush. Tried to make some stuff with the bones – actually made a decent sleeping smoke. Was out for half a day with the best sleep I had in a _long_ time. And the lungs? Mixed with a little meat and I had a broth that didn't, and I jest you not, _require me_ to _breathe_ for an _hour_! Haha! I laughed myself right off the bed!"

Mihailoff's voice took turns sounding joyful, excited, intellectual and even mesmerized. He almost seemed relieved; as if his confessing was some sort of way to remove a great weight from his shoulders. And for all Naruto had gathered so far, it might have been. He could only guess the years he held this story to himself, keeping his accomplishments silent from everyone he'd come in contact with.

When Mihailoff finally quieted, then, the air in the room seemed to…stall, for a moment. His growing smile, being neither particularly twisted nor overly warm, seemed to add an unearthly chill to the otherwise warm room.

"But the heart," he started again, moving from the glass cabinet towards the large portrait of an, assumedly, younger version of himself, "the _heart_ is where the real kicker is."

He slid his hand under the picture, lifting the frame up slowly and carefully placing it to the side. Behind it, embedded into the wall, was a safe. Black, stainless steel without as much as a fingerprint messing its smooth surface. And right at the center, a small, 100-count switch waited comfortably to be twisted, hovering over a small, tri-pronged handle.

Mihailoff turned his head back, smiling somewhat sheepishly. "I know; cliché bad guy thing to do, right? Security safe behind a portrait of myself? Who didn't see that coming?" He laughed a little at his own joke, moving his fingers over the knob and twisting it several different ways. "But…for the circumstances…of the present concern…I found a younger portrait of myself…to _beee…_"

_Click._

"_Fitting."_

He reached his hands down to the handle, winding it in a quick circle. The sound of several gears, locks and metal workings chimed in the closed room before the safe's door opened wide to reveal a series of carefully kept and maintained materials within…

* * *

A treasure hunter or adventurer might have imagined jewels, gold, valuable gems or some other form of items that held significant monetary value. A safe held in such a vast and expansive library might have also held texts of such age and worth that they were kept in air-sealed storage. Or, if in the _extreme_ unlikelihood that an individual was aware of the man's experiences throughout history, some sort of weaponry, trophy or other significant item that held fond significance to the mansion's owner.

But it was none of these.

Instead, lined from the top to the bottom with metal holdings, several rows of glass vials, each filled with a silvery, almost transparent liquid, glistened strangely in the dim lighting of the candles. The vials were each about as long as one's hand and skinny as a fingernail. Small corks kept the liquid inside, with a small bit of wax lining around it for extra protection from dripping.

Mihailoff reached towards the top, slipping one of the several gray phials out from its holding place and gently bringing it down to eyelevel. He rotated it carefully, looking it over as if it might have had flaws or markings which suggested tampering or a contamination of some sort, before nodding with a look of utmost consideration and gently closing the vault back into place. He then lifted the portrait back into place, shifting it around to look back as straight and regal as it had before. Not a smidge of dust seemed out of place; a perfect return of the portrait to its rightful place on the wall, as if it had never been moved.

Mihailoff allowed himself a moment to relax, staring to the portrait, before turning back to his blond intruder.

He was polite still, holding up his hand with the silvery fluid's container, presenting it to him as if he thought the youth was curious. "Here are the results," he began aloud, lifting his wrinkled hand close and wasting little time in removing the small cork from its top with an audible 'pop,' "of when everyday garden herbs, a bit of water, and the heart of an Angel are mixed together."

Silver dust seemed to float from the glass opening, as if the liquid inside were already evaporating with the air. There was certainly an otherworldly essence to the fluid, even if it was hard to say exactly what it was.

Mihailoff gave a last joke-toast to the boy, smiling as always, before bringing his lips to the vial's top and allowing the silvery liquid to slip past his twisted beard and down his aged throat.

He was careful, Naruto noted; his mouth went around the opening, not letting a single drop go to waste. But, as mentioned, the container was not particularly large or filled with a dense liquid, so it did not take long before the glass was lowered from its holder's lips and placed gently down onto the wooden desk.

His smile grew.

* * *

"It used to be painful-"

_A twitch in the corner of his lips._

"-the slow change. The first time it happened-"

_Aged and blurred blue eyes start to clear. A nose, crooked perhaps from some fight years before, straightens with an audible 'crick.'_

"-I screamed and screamed and screamed-"

_Hair was starting to fall. In large clumps, gray hair fell to the floor, forgotten. Long dark strands quickly grew in their place. The head started to take a lighter shine to it, the wrinkles being erased slowly._

"-you can't _imagine_ the pain of reforming your body-"

_His back was already straight. There were several large cracks from behind, however – bones scratching bones and muscles long unused being reformed and fitted. He grew; he was taller now by a good half foot._

"-can be. Your entire existence is in protest-"

_He was able to talk even as several pieces of teeth fell from his mouth. He didn't seem bothered; like his hair and beard, the empty places where his teeth were formerly were now actively replaced with new, bleached-white pieces._

"-to the unwanted, unprepared change."

_Underneath his clothes, the changes could only be heard. Sounding as if like the rough grinding of a machine, his innards made a strange music with their internal metamorphosis. His hands, the only thing visible under his clothing, started to shine a light pink. His fingernails, like his teeth and hair, fell and were replaced quickly. Under the hair and rows of old teeth, they were barely seeable._

"But, through the suffering and woe-"

_His old clothes didn't fit now. They seemed grievously out of place._

"-I was **reborn**."

_After all, old, wrinkled clothes should not have been worn by the youthful, prime-of-his-age man who now stood behind the desk._

_His new face matched the portrait, __**perfectly**__._

* * *

Naruto was not unfamiliar with bizarre transformations. His past comprised of several strange metamorphisms from any number of individuals. The list, if he were to go into examples, would take hours of description and explanation on how such changes would have even been _conceivable_. The impossibility of his previous life defied logic and transitioned into the stuff of legend and myth. Naruto himself would admit, as the years rolled on and he told those of the generations after his own about the challenges he and his comrades faced, a growing number of them began to marvel at the _gods_ that he and his past friends must have seemed like. To challenge and topple opponents of world-breaking ability – his generation would forever be inscribed as heroes of the world.

But even with all those experiences, it was hard not to marvel at the figure standing before him.

Mikhail Mihailoff the Elder was no more. In his place, a tall, dark-haired youth of perhaps his early twenties stood confidently where the old man stood behind the desk. His eyes were a sharp, icy blue that stared carefully down to his smooth, well-kept fingers. His nose was straight and pointed, hanging just over the perfectly white rows of teeth in his mouth. His cheeks and chin were without flaw or hair, and his neck was thick with muscle. The man who'd taken Mihailoff's place slowly moved his fingers over the heavily wool-woven shirt on his person, the piece of clothing showing definite signs of being far too short and unbefitting of his significant bulk and size. His muscles and toned skin under the hand sown clothing were strikingly pronounced.

This new man – this new Mihailoff – flexed his muscles appreciatively.

"Amazing, isn't it? Modern medicine at its finest." New-Mihailoff claimed, his voice significantly deeper and pronounced. "Edward Jenner _erased_ the smallpox with the revelation of dairymaids and cowpox. Alexander Fleming discovered Penicillin through his poor lab conditions. Both of these discoveries were done by accident but revolutionized the human race." He stifled a deep laugh, smirking. "Accidents. Accidents and curiosity bred the way to further human progress. This," he opened and squeezed his hand tightly, the veins and muscles in his arm tightened in response, "was an accident. I wanted to know if that old wife's tale of eating the hearts of great beasts or warriors would make a man strong was true. After the loss and humiliation handed to me by the youth, I was desperate for revenge. I had to know if the heart of a winged-man could help me achieve the justice I desired."

He lifted his arms to their sides, marveling at their lengths from his person. "I was willing to risk my very life to obtain this. To turn the 'weak and distraught' into the man who would make the cur _beg_ for mercy like I was some sort of _god_." He chuckled bitterly, lowering his arms. "I admit to wanting too much, perhaps. It was a fool's dream – hoping for that impossible hope over the life of ridicule and abuse. To believe that things would change from a drink of grasses, plants, water and a winged-man's _heart_. HAHA-I was so _young!_"

Mihailoff leaned down to his desk, hands balled into fists as they pressed down into the woodwork. Naruto might have imagined it, but it seemed to have difficulty holding the man's weight.

"But the results…I could not complain."

His arms went to the sides of the desk, hoisting the furniture overhead with swiftness. He seemed utterly unfazed by the bulk in his arms as he gave it a couple lifts.

"I was faster than any beast. _Stronger_ than the elephant! I could tear the largest tree from its _roots_ and crush _stone_ with my _fingers!"_ He laughed – a long, boisterous and deep thing. "The power of the Angel's heart was the key to my awakening! My rebirth! With it, the limits of my human form were thrown to the wastes!"

He placed the desk back to the floor – inkwell and candle surprisingly still upright even after his flaunting of strength – grinning almost fondly to the blond.

He looked excited. "It might surprise you to know this, but upon the revelation of these new gifts bestowed to me, thoughts of revenge were all but _expunged_. I felt warmth like a sun in my belly and renewed breath in my lungs. And my leg – HA! – _I could walk again! __**Run**__ again! _Leap over mighty _trees_ and hurdle across vast _rivers_!

"Why then would I care for some _boy_ who rubbed me the wrong way once? At that moment, he was little more than an _ant_ to my gaze.

"After testing my new found abilities, I went to the village. I showed them my good fortune. They were _stunned_ – they almost did not believe what they saw! Weak and fragile me, now a giant! I towered over them! Those who once scorned my practice and solitude now shouted cheers of my new prowess. Amazing what a few muscles can do for a man, am I right?"

The blond's stance, to Mihailoff's eyes and quiet approval, did not seem as hardened as before. He still held back his response to his questions, but the hostility in the air between them seemed lessened, of sort, if only by the smallest margin possible.

So Mihailoff continued.

"I was…accepted. For sixty years, I could not remember what it felt like to be one with my village; to not be looked at with distain or repression. But after my arrival, I couldn't stop smiling and laughing with the people who now saw me with worth.

"The villagers – they joked about how they could let me go hunting or tend the fields. Things a weakened body would have been unable to do before. And in truth, I wanted to! I wanted to plant crops, hunt animals, run with the men. I didn't want to live in the quiet any longer – I wanted to play games and drink the peculiar waters they had for parties or festivities. I wanted to, dare I even think it at the time, _talk_ to a female! And you know what? They_actually_ wanted to talk back! To me! Hahahahahaha!

"Those days are the ones I remember most fondly. For the months I worked with my fellow man. I laughed and ate and drank amongst the village people. I even had…ahem; pardon me for the phrasing, _relations_ with women."

The giant of a man actually looked sheepish at the admittance.

"It was a time I fondly recall. A time I still cherish.

"But, like all good times, this one eventually came to an end…"

* * *

Naruto continued to listen.

"Bullies. Bullies don't stop until you make them. They get their _laughs_ and their _chuckles_ from their idiocies. The boy who ruined my leg was no different.

"After my rebirth, he skirted away from my very shadow. He knew his place then. He _knew_ what I could do to him. So he stayed away and I was fine with it. Hardly remembered he was around, to be honest. I had responsibilities – I wanted to show off what this 'new me' could do. Failing my people, by getting something as pointless as revenge on a stupid child, would have reflected poorly on the improved me.

"And so, I forgot about him, and before long, I moved past everything else which tied me to my old self. I left behind my secluded home, the 'man-witching' and the undesired me. I tried to believe as if it were some terrible fantasy – that the life before was the _nightmare_ to prepare me for the _dream_."

Mihailoff walked away from behind the desk, moving towards a shelf of several brightly colored novels. He reached for one – the title wasn't important, nor could Naruto see it from his view, but it seemed to capture the man's eye because he seemed lost in it for a moment.

"He moved on to someone else. The bully, I mean. He moved onto some child nearing manhood. A boy who was like me – or the me that was, I amend.

"Skinny. Not especially useful to the daily chores. A _dreamer_. He didn't have many to talk to and his father was embarrassed of him. His mother, like many then, had passed by his birth. He was a lonesome child who roamed the outer plains in search of gnomes or sprites or rockmen. He wanted to be a warrior, but poor birth seemed as if destiny would plague him to the end of his life.

"I suppose that's what attracted me to him. He was what I was, and I was what he wanted to be.

"We talked quite frequently after my change. He told me his stories of those beyond the village and, admittedly, in the life before, I might have doubted his tales. But, when you've eaten the heart of a man who had wings from his back, you begin to doubt very little of the world's mysteries.

"He liked to watch the naiads. They sang songs; he told me that they could only be heard if you put your head below the water's surface. And if they didn't drown you first, he said they held a very sweet toon.

"He told me he saw a giant once, just outside the plain areas. It herded sheep. He said it stood twice the size of the largest bear and carried the trunk of a tree in his fingers. He wanted to be like that – big and built and without fear. I could understand that.

"And what he told me of wood nymphs – _he blushed! _Hahahaha!"

He shook his head, grinning brightly as he rubbed his eye with the free hand.

"Then he died."

He closed his book with a loud, echoing clap.

"…It was the bully. The one time he tried to defend himself and he died. Boys messing with one another – an _accident_. It wasn't the boy's fault, they said. He didn't know better. He was just a man who did not know his own strength.

"In response, the bully made a show of his murder. A pity show. He actually tried to play us for fools.

"And it worked. For the others, at least.

"He laughed, later. _He._ _**Laughed.**_ Don't know what it was for – nor do I particularly care for what – but he laughed the very same day and no one felt concern. No one cared a boy died because he couldn't take being someone's_meat sack_. They didn't show remorse, just threw his carcass away so it wouldn't attract anything to the village.

"Not even his father took the time to see him buried. To ensure he passed on to his ancestors. I had to do it myself."

Mihailoff put the book back to the shelf. There was no longer a friendly tint in his eye.

"I didn't sleep that night. Or the night after that. Barely needed to anymore, but I just couldn't. Not even when I took company to bed. I just kept thinking about…did I fail?" He asked, though it seemed to be more of a self-aimed question than to his guest. "Was I at fault? I saw the bruises. I saw the cuts. The _limp_. How could I not – they were so similar to my own. I would have been insulting my own intelligence in forgetting such harsh remembrances.

"But I didn't do anything. I thought just being around me would help. It didn't. Not even a little. He probably cried and begged and was hurt more still but I didn't even think of it. I didn't help.

"In the end, I could only wonder: was it the words of the fool that he thought of last? Or the silence of the friend?"

He pursed his lips, cocking his head back to eye the blond.

"I went to the cruel child's home. I found him. I dragged him away. I beat him. I bloodied his face until his eyes were shut and his nose was gone.

"He might have begged – I didn't listen. I didn't want to. He made his decision and I made mine. I wouldn't let anyone else be hurt…

"I didn't make it quick or painless. I quite enjoyed dragging out his cries. I let his blood wash over the earth and covered his mouth to stifle his last begging.

"And his screams – especially his screams.

"After I had my fill of breaking his limbs and most of everything else on him, I ripped his heart out. I wanted to see if it was as black as I imagined.

"It wasn't, oddly enough, but that didn't stop me from _crushing it_ in my hand. He was already dead by then but I could have _sworn_ there was a look of in his eyes that said he still saw what I'd done."

He looked to his hand. Perhaps he still saw the blood? How many years had it been since then? Did the image really dissolve with time? Something so dramatic? So monumental to his life?

Naruto could guess.

"He was my first. He wasn't my last.

"Someone saw us. Whoever it was, they riled the village. They called for me – _saw_ my body red with his blood.

"I tried to settle the mob – tried to explain – but they wouldn't have it. They came at me with bow and spear and stone.

"They attacked _me_. And all those little emotions, those hurtful moments of ridicule and despise I'd more than willed away – _they came back._ I remembered how they couldn't have cared less for me unless their life was hanging by a god's thread and how they cared even less for the child who told stories of the weird or unexplained.

"It was a place where the _strong _survived and the weak _died_.

"So you know what? I decided to_ remind them _of that_._"

His fingers rolled into a tightly curled fist.

"They came at me from everywhere, tried to drag me down. They tried to bludgeon me, beat me, pierce me with whatever primitive tool they had but they could do nothing. My body was like that of the Angel's – _impenetrable._None of their tools so much as _scratched_ my skin.

"From night to dawn, I killed them all. Man. Woman. Child. It made no difference. They screamed and shouted and cried and begged and I _slaughtered_ them.

"Their former doctor, their healer, their 'man-witch' was now their _ruin_."

Mihailoff turned around fully, his attention to Naruto.

Their expressions and stances matched; stoic and stern. "I stared down at them when the sun rose. The buzzards were already picking out whatever they could. And you know what I thought then? What I thought of killing? What I thought of that exhilaration, that excitement, that understanding that like when I was a doctor, _I_ had the power over life itself? This was no different. Only now, _I _was the thing that decided if life would be spared or taken.

"You know what I thought then, over the corpses? Over the people I'd cared for, even in my waning, broken years?

"I thought to myself: 'this felt _right_.'"

* * *

"I couldn't very well stay after that – the corpses smelled something foul, even to a doctor, and the buzzards were depressing. So, after grabbing a little of this and that, I decided to go travelling. And I have to tell you, there is_nothing_ like a little cross-country traveling to really put your mind away from the hard truths that you killed every single person you've come to know and love over the years."

That last sentence made Mihailoff pause.

"Hmm. I'm going to need another drink after this…"

He went quiet for a moment, looking somewhat distant.

Then shook his head.

"In any case, I saw the world through the eyes of a youth who could see farther than the hawk. I touched oceans from one side of the world to the other and climbed to the peaks of mountains no creature had before. I soared the skies on the wings of beasts and swam to the depths of the dark seas. And everywhere in between, I killed.

"Oh, _yes_. I killed still. The thrill of such strength and ability did not wane. It was an addiction – one I had no desire to quit. Sometimes I killed for wealth. Sometimes for food. Sometimes, rarely, for my survival. But for most of my life I did what I did because I _could_. Disgusting, I know. Believe me; I am _more_ than aware that society would call me as such. But nevertheless, I am under my personal belief that truth over lies makes a far better autobiography, regardless of the more…_repulsive_ details.

"During my travels, I suppose you would consider my 'business' with people as being none-too dissimilar to that of a traveling plague. And as I grew older in my new body, I started to experiment and practice in my ways of the kill. Simple bludgeoning or strangulations were a few methods that I found quickly began to bore me. I mean, after slaughtering an entire attacking village of your closest friends, you have this unmistakable urge to one-up yourself.

"And so, I started to wonder on how I could excite and bizarre and befog, not only myself, but those who stumbled onto my work. A neck pierced with a needle so thin it was deemed the man died of unknown cause; a body hung by a leg for the gators, believed self-suicide; a condemned 'witch' torn at arm and leg by horses – I wonder if the Angel's heart increased my curiosity and inventive nature. I certainly wouldn't have considered such actions in my former life. Such thoughts would have left me frightfully _ill_.

"Oh, which reminds me: as a note of interest, I should add on to the fact that, as I grew older in my time of new youth, I quickly understood that the body I was gifted with would not last forever. It aged, as any human body should. I concluded – or at least hypothesized – that I would need to replenish the formula and ingredients needed to replicate the conditions which made me…well, _this_."

Jumping from his story briefly, Mihailoff gestured to himself in the blond youth's direction.

"While the original grasses and roots would have been simple enough to purchase or harvest with time, producing the heart of an Angel proved to be…troublesome. Took me a little over a decade to find another one. And he put up a much larger fight. I believe it was in _Egypt_, if memory serves me right, though it might have just as easily have been in Carthage. Dreadful thing, millennia worth of killing Angels. They all look the same with those feathers and those armors and their perfect looks – they all sort of began to blend together and after spending years wandering the…oh, I'm rambling again."

He rubbed his forehead, looking bashful.

"Sorry, sorry, forgive me. I often prattle on the most mundane details when I get a story going. I like to think it's because I'm old and possibly still feeling the aftereffects of a previous-life's senile-ism and not because I like the sound of my own voice." He paused. "Although, I do admit, it has a sort of melodic ring to it, doesn't it?"

He snickered to himself. The air around him, which felt so neutral with his storytelling, suddenly held a cold edge.

"To make long, overly-complicated-amounts-of-history-revulving-around-this-world-and-humans short: I travelled. From the coldest poles to the warmest deserts. I killed, prolonged my immense lifespan, and killed some more. It was a nice cycle, really.

"But then I decided to expand my personal hobbies to worlds beyond. To the worlds belonging to the creatures of myth and legend. My boy, I have walked the earths of a hundred worlds and felt the warmth of many colored suns. I have seen worlds of forests which do not end. Worlds of silver waters and dark fires. Worlds of diversity, serenity and disbelief. Worlds of wonders and beauties unimagined. Worlds I have set fires to and let the blood of many feed its grounds. Worlds that fear my many names and _cower_ at the thought of my return. Which, I can assure you; I have _every_ intention of doing so.

"Through my actions, I have changed the history of _trillions_. With but a sweep of my hand, I have rewritten the foundations of empires! Through mere suggestion, I have riled rebellions and produced chaos immense! My names have been synonymous with _fear itself!_ I have been the architect of destructions known and have done it _grinning._ I have played to the tunes of ruin and have been the image of nightmares. Can you imagine it? Can you imagine all that I have seen and touched and ruined? Without thoughts against? Imagine it. Now imagine what I think of you now, catching me with my life's story in the mouth, admitting to any and all of my crimes, sins, dastardly deeds-whichever and all.

"And I have only one thing to ask. One thing, and I want you to answer me, here and now."

He moved away from his books, once more taking a position behind his desk, laying comfortably into his leather chair. His confidence was staggering; he seemed utterly unfazed by anything. He just smiled his crooked smile, waved his hand and watched Naruto carefully, just as he was watched in turn.

"_What happens __**now?**_"

* * *

Eyes.

Eyes are mirrors.

Eyes are windows.

Eyes are reflections of both ends.

Eyes show the mind, the intent, the mysteries, the truths, the lies, the beliefs, the past, the future, the forward, the backward and everything that may be in between.

Eyes.

What lied behind Mihailoff's eyes? What lied behind that thousand year old mind? What twisted thoughts waited to be thought; what crooked plans looked forward to completion; what temptations prowled in dark corners, preparing to be done?

Naruto could not say. Mihailoff's eyes were blank.

Blank. Devoid. No intent, no thought, no mysteries or beliefs – how perfectly those eyes contrasted with the man's friendly looks.

The candle's flickering flame did not reflect off his eyes. The blond youth tried to make out a reflection from them, but saw nothing; these eyes did not mirror back what images they perceived.

Like stone.

How strange they were, even to Naruto; a man who held significant experience dealing with the odd individuals of the world. From twisted creations developed by crazed men, to undead leaders from decades past, to even colossal beasts that towered over the earth – each entity seemed and sounded as if out of some fantastical story book but yet had something in common with the other. They held their own histories that guided them or pushed them forward. And their eyes, for every moment they existed, expressed the either willful or forced nature of their choices, the pained history of their lives or the simple reason for being. Their intentions and reasons to move forward were quite prevalent and never once seemed completely without consciousness.

Even if dead or not human, there was something behind the eyes that said that there was a thought behind what was to occur next. A soul to drive them forward and to show that they had history to them.

But this was what made Mihailoff so discernable from the others.

Mihailoff's held none of these qualities. No reason or intent. He spoke of personal history, intentions and beliefs but none of these were conveyed through the eyes. Naruto, were he a man of poetic ability, would have best described the thing that went by the name 'Mikhail Mihailoff' as little more than a machine waiting to murder. A machine which could not be reasoned with. A machine which held millennia of experiences, memories and blood of others at its fingertips but thought nothing of it but the excitement from being the one to have been there to see each happening happen. A machine which killed because it could, was unobstructed by reason, senses of species-preservation, or even the most basic sense of morality.

_Nihilism, thy name is Mihailoff._

And now, at the closing of the meeting between the blond and the machine, what was there left to do but answer Mihailoff's question:

_What happens now?_

* * *

In all fairness, the answer to this question hadn't changed since the moment Naruto set out to find the ancient man. If anything, Mihailoff's confirmation to his identity and backstory all but solidified what he'd been set out to do three days prior. There was little left to say, or do, but finish the night as planned.

Reaching into his coat pockets with both hands, the blond youth produced two items of equal-personal value; raising both into the air so his host might perceive them without issue.

The objects were actually quite simple: a standard capped-pen and a folded sheet of paper.

Naruto lifted the pen to his lips, casually biting into the pen's cap and plucking it from the pen's dark point and throwing the top to the side with a light spat. The former Hokage used his other hand, holding the blank paper, to casually undue the folding and allow its eight-by-eleven, wrinkled whiteness unravel.

He shook the pen lightly, loosening the ink as he walked to one of the many bookshelves of Mikhail's library, using a few of his free fingers to pry a large thirteenth-century novel from its shelves. Casually, he placed the paper on top of the only-slightly worn novel and, after making sure the paper was still and in a comfortable place, looked up to the observant mansion owner with a careful, unwavering stare.

"…"

The youthful invader glanced down to his paper.

_Scribble scribble scribble scribble scribble-_

He glanced back to the former elder.

"…"

He looked back to his paper.

_Scribble scribble scribble-_

He looked back to Mihailoff, who was as curious as he was skeptical about the importance of whatever the boy was writing. To be fair, in his travels of the centuries, he had found paper to have significant potential for devastation – he once knew a mage who had the curious idea of containing a forest fire's worth of inferno in his back pocket, or one which held three words powerful enough to send two races into war.

_Scribble scribble scribble…_

Was his intruder a mage? A magical practitioner? A wizard or-or _sorcerer,_ maybe? Mihailoff did not sense any sort of magical energies coming from the boy, though his experience with anything pertaining to the field of magic was, admittedly, little more than a handful of experiences with some now very dead humans. But how often did paper serve as a means of threatening for someone of his magnitude?

_Scribble scribble…_

Mihailoff tried viewing over the blocking novel to the youth's scrawling. He seemed eager to take in his features-perhaps he was drawing a portrait? Seemed an odd place and time to do so, but having had so many years experiencing peculiar youth-to-senior folk from one stretch of the world to the other, he didn't argue over semantics.

He only hoped the boy was managing to get his good side.

* * *

_Scribble scribble scribble scribble._

Naruto darted his head back and forth between the paper and his 'muse,' varying between writing necessary details down to paper and ensuring every mark was appropriately placed.

_Scribble scribble scribble._

Male. Seven feet tall, or so. Black hair. Hmm…four-hundred pounds?

_Scribble scribble._

Close enough. Blue eyes? Eh, bluish-gray. No freckles on cheeks. No butt chin – seriously, even some of the minutest details he could think of would help in this matter.

Silly to notice these things, sure-

_Scribble…scribble…_

-but necessary.

_Scri…bble…_

…

…

…

…_Scribble._

And he was done.

Naruto took a last second to look over his work before glancing up to the formerly-old man. Figuring this was as close as he was going to get his muse's 'details-to-paper,' he decided now was as good a time as any to finish up.

He tossed the hardcover to the side, seeing no further use for it and brought the now thoroughly-covered-with-pen-ink sheet of paper to eye level. The sheet was covered in black ink. Ink which nearly touched the four corners of the sheet; making up some odd signs, curves and patterns that to the average bloke might have looked like nothing more than some creative child's school drawings but to the blond looked like something that was readable, understandable and (if he were feeling any sense of boastfulness) _prideworthy_ of recognition in its schematic. He raised his freed hand just before the paper, lifting his index and long fingers to point while leaving his other fingers curled inward. It took a moment, but after a light bit of concentration, the ink began to shine a savage yellow, illuminating the library in its vibrant shine.

Mihailoff watched the boy with ever increasing enjoyment. Between the pen-to-paper works, the hand signal and now how the paper seemed to _glow_ from the boy's hand as he focused his unwavering blue eyes on it, it wasn't difficult to say why the sturdy youthful man was at attention and waiting with bated breaths for the something that, he believed, was going to be truly _spectacular_.

It took a few moments for the yellowish radiance to fade from the paper's ink, leaving the room once more to be lit only by the candles. The ink neither seemed singed nor burnt as Mihailoff believed it should have been, instead appearing no different to how it was seconds before.

No plume of smoke, no ripples of power, no disturbance within the natural making of the library.

Really, it was sort of a letdown for the excitable giant.

Naruto didn't notice his disappointment, however. Even if he did, it wouldn't have mattered. What happened next had to happen. There was no enjoyment to be found in his eyes as he held the paper up to eye level for the hulking former-elder. What came next did not require subtlety or finesse, therefore not requiring the blond to hold back anything.

He would be blunt. As a final kindness.

Because for what came next for the 'Murderer of the Countless' was a sentence that was undoubtedly a fate _worse_ than _death_.

"This piece of paper is a prison." Naruto finally spoke, his tone explanatory but dipping lower than usual. "A seal. A seal for you. A seal for which will put you away into a place where you mean nothing." He took a breath – a long, steadying one. "I don't mean that as a joke. Where you will go is a place where you will not feel; where you will not _smell_; where you won't see your own hand, hear your own heartbeat, or taste the _empty_."

Another long breath. He spoke again, slower now.

"Where you will go, there is no air. There is no breeze or wind. Nothing to put in your lungs. But that won't matter because you won't need to breathe. And even if you wanted to, you couldn't. Because your prison won't allow it.

"You might want to move. To stretch. To pace. To do something or anything. But you won't need to. You won't be able to. It will not _let_ you. Because it doesn't care. It just won't let you.

"It is a prison, Mihailoff. The _worst_ prison. The worst thing I can give you – this state of near-_nothing_.

"A prison that only allows you to realize your own hell and to age. Age as you would. Preserved. You will be aware of it, but not in control. The crawl of time will pass by every second, forever, until you have met the end of your life.

"At which time, the seal and paper will burn in fire and your body along with it.

"And that's what I am giving you, Mihailoff. Your prison. Your seal. Your…_Oblivion_."

* * *

This rendition of unpleasantness would surprise anyone who knew Naruto Uzumaki.

Such big words he was using. So uncharacteristically cold. It was like he was reading off a list of terrible things that came with what he'd created – which, in a way, he was.

Naruto remembered when he was told about the seal in its initial creation. What his _successor_ told him when she finished its development; how this was the ultimate prison for the worst of the worst that would come to threaten the world. Built for the situation for where when he was gone, and when she was gone, and when there came a threat that would continue to return if not stopped finally, there had to be a way to end its return without worry that death may not be enough.

It was a hypothetical situation, sure, but a situation that began plans and ideas for countermeasures which inevitably led to the development of the resulting seal he now held in his hands.

**The Oblivion Seal.**

But to begin with why the Oblivion Seal, as it was so romantically termed, was a unique creation even by the classification of sealing techniques, there had to be some background knowledge that had to be understood first. An understanding for those who were not part of the ninja world or familiar with the fundamentals surrounding that pertained to the skill of sealing.

Firstly:

By definition, sealing was the art of placing things, such as objects, chakra, energy or any variety of extraordinary materials, into another object. Sealing, which instead of using inner power and hand movements or signs to form these wondrous effects, used different mediums, such as blood or ink, to form the basis from which these impressive happenings occurred from. Even by the most outrageous and extraordinary circumstances of Naruto's world, the art of sealing was a bizarre thing. Few were talented or knowledgeable in its applications and fewer still were skillful in its use for more than simple necessities a ninja would be required to know of. And above all, most techniques revolving around sealing were oriented around things **non-living**.

Non-living. This meant that materials, such as humans or things with a degree of self-preservation and continuity, could not be put into something as small or tedious as a blank sheet of paper with a few ink scribbles on it. The intricacy behind living matter, the complexity of a nervous system and not to even begin describing brain survival functions, was something not even the most talented minds of his world had yet to fully uncover or embrace a full understanding towards. Most techniques that even seemed to hold or produce living matter were usually just a seal which teleported or conjured living tissue matter from a separate location at immediate speeds – and even these techniques took time, preparation and careful planning in use so that nothing dire happened to either the would-be-produced party or the attempting-to-teleport-something individuals who thought to meddle in dangerous practices.

There were discussions on sentient materials, such as those made of pure energy or chakra-built constructions, and if these examples were compatible with the sealing processes, but that was a discussion point of little present concern.

Secondly:

The issue with energy. Energy: chakra, mostly, was a finite energy source for individuals. They could only produce so much, hold so much or use so much at a given time. And a seal, depending on what was being sealed, either by category of size or complexity, required a **lot** of energy. Sometimes to the point of being fatal if the user was ill-prepared for the backlash of trying to seal or unseal something beyond their ability-range.

As a reminder, sealing was a dangerous learning practice. And Naruto had a familial history with sealing techniques leading to death…

But, again, this was a discussion point of little present concern.

Third and lastly:

The final issue with sealing was the concern with the sealing itself. Though often seen as random scribbles and markings on paper or surfaces, ninja sealing techniques were actually quiet poetic and efficient in their design. Every single mark, stroke of pen on paper or ink was essential. They made out the details of what was being sealed: what was desired by the user for the object to do (be sealed, explode, etc.); would the user like to have the object retrieved and if so when; what would be the qualifications of when such item could be released, by blood, key, special material used and so on.

But that wasn't even the problem when it came to sentient insertion. The problem actually aligned with the fact that seals were, despite all their fantastic capabilities, still inanimate.

Meaning they could not change or advance beyond their designed functions.

To explain this in simple terms, imagine a ninja sealing a rock into a sheet of paper. A rock of only six inches wide and six inches high. Regular earth. Nothing really substantial to it. Sealing something as basic as this, even with only a few weeks of experience practicing the art of sealing, would not be a significant challenge. The sealing declared it was a rock, gave basic information for what it was, and done! One sealed rock in paper!

But now, theoretically, there is a problem. The rock is expanding. It's grown a foot wider and higher. Then split in two! And now its density is growing thicker, it's getting heavier. And now it's transmuting into a different material entirely – iron, if you would – all within the seal itself.

And this is the problem.

The seal is _only_ written to hold a rock. A rock of a half-a-foot wide and high. A simple object which required simple sealing marks. But now, that formerly simple object is now very different and complex. And the ninja's sealing marks are not meant to hold such a thing. The seal is now very confused, in a manner of speaking, as to why it is holding something very different than what it had originally placed within itself. The object is wrong, the sealing marks relating to the object are wrong, and yet somehow the object was allowed to pass through uncompromised.

What happens next is what the ninja community refers to as a 'Sealing Malfunction.'

The chakra, or separate energy source, used to hold the rock or now-different object is distorted. What was meant to hold only a simple object with minimal chakra involved is now incapable of holding the greater item. Or in the case of a larger-than-needed body of chakra holding a small object, the chakra that was meant to hold a specific type of object to specific parameters and shaping and design is now twisted as it tries to work around an obviously dissimilar object than it was originally intended to hold.

Chakra doesn't have a sentient mind to tell itself to deal with the sealed objects changing position or form. And the sealing marks made by the ninja to organize the chakra to do a specific task or follow a set of guidelines is not able to just easily adjust the problem with more seals or pre-seals detailing how to adjust to changing objects dichotomies. It had never been successfully done. And if those guidelines were disrupted by the object they were holding, then the fragile chakra would become unbalanced.

And disturbed, fragile chakra within a now faulty seal becomes something not dissimilar to holding an unstable bomb.

So, **boom**.

The seal would break. The object would most likely be ripped apart by its being at the epicenter of the implosion, and the chakra would then repulse in all directions like a _grenade_.

As a result to the many issues and potential consequences that came with the art, sealing was largely considered one of the most complex matters in the ninja world. And that was saying something when one understood that producing and controlling internal energies to conjure powers of destructive force was considered child's play for many who studied within a ninja village.

The average someone shuddered to consider why sealing was handled with an extreme delicacy.

But now, 'why' is the question. Why does this all matter? Why did matters of living material, energy consumption, and changing forms of material matter to the present concern of Mihailoff's Seal?

Well, it was all actually quite simple of a reason: the Oblivion Seal was compatible.

It _worked_.

It worked with holding the living; it worked without obnoxious energy consumptions; it worked with changing forms – _it worked_.

The Oblivion Seal took the ever changing, ever developing, ever thriving material that was a living thing, sentient or otherwise, and placed it within the void of the seal's makeup without issue. The seal's markings altered to the shifting material placed within it – _evolved_, if you would, though still remaining inanimate, and allowed the sealed material to remain sealed.

The history for its development was _decades_ in the work. Constantly theorized, constantly practiced and all the while using the top minds in the ninja world had to offer. Minds which spent decades rolling in secret arts and techniques. Minds that, even to this day, Naruto felt cautious to even think about.

It should be noted that the reason behind live-sealing, and the Oblivion Seal's development, was not originally for the sake of creating a 'perfect prison.' In fact, the development around a seal to hold sentient, living matter was actually for matters far more basic and humanitarian reasons: a seal to hold a dozen armed ninja into a serious situation without worry or fear of being caught or seen; the preservation of livestock to be transported over long distances without fear of attack from wolves, country bandits or the effects of uncontrolled weather; to test the depths of sealing arts for how the adverse effects would work on still living matter – these reasons behind the development of live-sealing techniques were far more beneficial and humanitarian than to what it eventually came to be. And as mentioned previously, the Oblivion Seal would only come into fruition after hypothetical situations arose. Situations no one wished to think on, but eventually decided on the fact that it was best for everyone.

The Oblivion Seal. No escape. No maintenance. No worries. Only the passing of time and the contemplation of your actions.

Naruto, for the sake of understanding what was being used against only the worst of the worst that his world could bring, once offered his assistance in understanding just what his people would be sending these criminals into. And although he wasn't the first individual to spend time in the initial prototype sealing technique, he was the first to spend time in it longer than fifteen minutes.

The former Hokage could still recall how proud he was of his successor then. How amazing her work was. At the time of its development, a lifelong sentence of imprisonment, without the need to feed or take care of a prisoner, seemed humane by comparison to an execution.

The aged hero of the world spent _three days_ inside the seal. Being sealed with prevalent confidence and certainty in his actions.

It. _Was_. _**Horrible.**_

* * *

Naruto had familiar use of the seal before the end of his previous life and found several moments in his new one to use its abilities. Mostly, it was in the case of transporting criminals to Devil detainment facilities – used only for Strays to be put away before they could bring harm to others. He felt no shame in using it then, as an hour or two within the confines of the seal were hardly anything worrisome or too horrible to experience. And he always ensured that no detours would be made between the point where he sealed a Stray away and when he would release it to the proper authorities.

Though the design and invention was cruel, Naruto at least believed himself to be kind in its application. He and his people had decided that the moment he emerged from his three day trial run within the seal that the Oblivion Seal's use would only be for the direstof circumstances. Few – _very_ few – would ever be worthy of a permanent use for this terrible device he held in his hands.

It was needless to say that Mihailoff qualified as one of those _very_ few.

And was, in fact, the first of this new life.

Not that this thought made the situation any easier.

Finishing his description of what was in store for this millennium old murderer, the previously-old man found himself surprisingly…perturbed. Not because of the blond's description. Not because he felt that what awaited him was by any means pleasant or agreeable to his standard of living. But rather, for the fact of what his home intruder did _not_ plan to do to him.

Mihailoff began after a moment's pause. "…I beg your pardon? I, I'm sorry, I must have misheard you." He brought his large hand to his lips, coughed, than met Naruto's eyes again. "I was certain you were suggesting you were going to…'put me away.'" He lifted a finger to the paper. "In that?"

Naruto allowed himself to nod.

Mihailoff stared briefly at the paper. Then to Naruto. He pursed his lips for a moment, looking very confused as he stared between the boy with blond hair and the small piece of paper with the many scribbles and lines running through it.

Mihailoff than stood from his chair, eyes wandering the candlelit room. Up and down, corner to corner, blinking and tongue-turned.

His breathing picked up. Not erratic but far from comforted. He didn't seem to recognize where he was, nor understand what was happening.

His face was flushed as he looked to the floor and shook his head.

He chuckled a little.

"I can't believe it."

He muttered.

"I just, I _can't_ believe it."

He giggled a little louder, a little harder.

"He-he won't kill me. Hoho. He won't!"

He turned his back to Naruto, now staring to the hanging portrait of himself.

The crazy started to come in. "He-he-he won't kill me-e-e-e! He won't! Heeheeheehee! Me! He-he knows me! He knows me, and he won't-he won't-_BWAHHAHAHAHA!_"

His laugh was hysterical.

He slapped his knee.

Hard.

Twice.

It went on for little over a minute. The man laughed and laughed as if the greatest joke the world had ever seen had just been given to him.

And Naruto, still defensive in position and holding the paper in his hand with a stiff arm, watched this bizarre reaction without stutter.

"Heeheeheheheheh! HOhoooo-hoooo! AAAAHHH-HOOOOOoooo! Heheh!

"Heeeheeheee! HaahahehHEHEH…hoohoohoo!

"…Heheheheheh…heheheh…

"…

"…

"…Hooo…"

…The hulking man finally stopped.

He shook his head a little more; still staring at his reflective portrait, than turned to Naruto with the biggest grin his face seemed capable of holding.

"Unbelievable. Simply, _un-be-lievable!_ Hehe! I mean, truly, astounding!" He slapped his hands together in a clap. It reverberated like thunder in the library. "I give you my history. My devious deeds! Some of my most notorious kills, done with a grin, and the promise that countless have died by _my hand_ and countless more will continue to do so still!

"And yet you-you refuse to…to _**kill**_ _**me!**_"

He cackled again, but only for a moment.

"Why? _Why_ won't you? _Why_ refuse to kill this filth?" He lifted his large arms and pounded his open palms to his chest. It might have been Naruto's imagination – lack of significant rest, food, or water in the last three days – but it seemed as if the blows of his palms _rippled_ the air with his power.

Unnerving.

"I can see it, you know. Your reprehension to the thought. Your reprehension to the thought of killing _me._

"Why question the thought? Why question the consideration? This-this shouldn't even be a question to ask yourself. 'Should you kill me?' HA! Look at me! Think of my actions! My claims, my histories, my worthless! I'm unforgivable! Any other man who held even a _chance_ at killing me would do so without worry to their soul!

"So _why_ don't _you?"_

Mihailoff leaned forward over his desk. His weight bore down onto the wood, causing it to creak.

"_That_ is another question. Is it fear? Is it morality? Reluctance? Belief in the betterment of others? Fear for your soul? Does the idea repulse you? How could it? I'm a monster. I admit it. I know my soul is damned and I know that even still I will spill more blood with these hands. And when, or if, that time comes where death has caught up to my ever wandering-escaping-killing self, do you know what I will do? I will accept it. Willingly and openly. I do not fear death. I never have. I have saved lives and taken them. I am no fool to think that death will never come. It will. I am certain. And I, above many, look forward to it.

"But do not believe I will not fight to the end until that time. I am many things, but craven? _Bah_. I will not jump from some cliff or fall on some blade to seek a quick end. I will not place an iron ball into my head, nor drink the quickest poison I can find. _I will not._ Such a thing would be beneath me. To my worth. If someone is finally capable of ending me – ending my existence – then only then will I relent. I will accept my end with grace and await my judgement – _painful and cruel_, as it should be.

"Will you be the one to put this walking torrent of death aside? Or will you imprison me into that _scribbled sheet?_ Consider this, before you answer: if I am dead, there is a guarantee I will remain so." He shrugged. "In a world – or group of worlds, as it is – with necromancers and dead risers, who can say for certain a Lich, a Crypt Dealer, or even a _Devil_ won't take an interest in this black soul of mine? I would be quite the catch, I think, for someone interested in my power. I do not guarantee it will happen, but consider what my return would mean, hmm."

He let the thought linger, for a moment, to be considered by his blond company.

"But anyhow, barring necromancy, the _horrid practice,_ what about the other alternative: imprisonment. Who is to say I won't one day break out?"

"You won't." Naruto declared.

"Oh, but I may!" Mihailoff countered. "And if I were to get out, what then? I am a funny fellow. I remember your face. Vividly, I might add. And I am quite the artisan – recreating your face on paper would be a trivial thing. How long would it take, with your face on paper, my word of description, and the open road ahead just filled with loose-tongued gossipers and face-recognizing acquaintances, to find you? Hmm? A week, a month, a year, or ten? You, your associates, your friends, your family – how long?"

He stared with a stern gaze into Naruto's eyes. There was a lack of humor now. A lack of good nature or even respect.

There was only the intensity.

"My dear boy, don't doubt that I will one day be released from your 'paper-trap.' Doubt, instead, the days you will have left before I _find you_."

He let his words sink into Naruto's mind – which they most certainly did – for a moment.

A _long_ moment.

Then Mihailoff shrugged.

"But, of course, what do I know?" He asked. "I mean, those are only _two_ options: kill or imprison me. Both which would be hindrances, but not all together unpleasantries. There's always the third, in which…well, you die. You die with my arm around your throat, my hand crushing your heart, my fists beating your head into little more than wasted, formerly-living matter on the floor – the list goes on with more or less the same ending. Your story ends here and no one will be the wiser…maybe. Doesn't matter – anyway, those are really the only choices available to work with, I'm afraid.

"If you kill me, I win. I want that. You could try to imprison me, in which case I'd lose. Sort of. I could get free, as I mentioned, and I would then search for you like a spectre. A _**hunt**_, if you would. And how I do so love hunting! The tracking, the planning, the finale – some of my most precious moments have been through the weeks and months of searching." He lifted a large hand to his chin, scratching it with a wandering gaze. "Oh, _good times_. I can remember such _good times_. I can remember an ogre of twelve years past – the first ogre, in fact, to ever develop an affinity for the mystic arts. Such power to him, hoho! I remember waiting and watching for some time, searching for openings and gaps in his defenses for such lengths. And – OH! – what he could do with a bit of fire at his fingertips! Truly, that Myzarrum was a brutish-genius after my own fascination with the divine and impossible!

"Or-or perhaps a more recent one," Mihailoff's excitement took hold. He was lost to his remembrances. "The goblin prince of five years before was also a fond vacation memory. I remember him well; he was tall for a goblin. And broad. And _skilled_. He was a warrior who slew a bronze dragon all on his own, in fact. A goblin killing a dragon - hah! Astounding! Absolutely _a_-s_toun-ding!_ Ooooh, I spent three months scouring for the perfect moment alone with him!And even then, he wasn't taken by surprise! He knew I was coming! Oh, what a _marvelous_ creature he was! _Brilliant!_

"And, and – OH! Here's a good one! That-that puppy of Cerberus! OH, he was DELIGHTFUL! Definitely more bite than bark! Good for him! Had his old man and half of Hades after me by the time they realized what I'd done – _and half of Greece's Pantheon, with them!_ Certainly was a change of pace from being the hunter to the hunted. But, oh, that _thrill_ could not be compared to in a _hundred years!_

Mihailoff slapped his knee and laughed some more – the _rippling_ from the intensity of his playful smacks only too noticeable.

"But I will have you know, the search for these individuals made the dull and uninteresting times in Oymyakon all the more enjoyable. No one ever thinks to look in Russia for a world-class slaughterer. It's cold, forested, mountainous – a nightmare to scour. But look at you; willing to traverse the entire Republic to find little old me. I'm flattered, really!

"But back to the matter at hand, I would still very much count it as a win for myself if you managed to imprison me. Especially if I'm guessing right in the belief you'll hold back in whatever attempts you need to make to ensure I do not die. That's just icing on the cake. An advantage you are offering me which, I guarantee, you will regret."

Mihailoff snickered. This time, there was a definite arrogance behind it. He resumed his sitting back in his chair, lifting the sole of his foot to press against the woodwork of the desk in what might have seemed like a comfortable, craning his hands behind his head in mock bravado before uttering his last piece.

"Those are your options, my boy, those are your options. Which just leads me right back to my first question, as it would seem. What. Happens. Now?"

* * *

Naruto folded the paper after only a second of waiting. He pressed it tightly so it wouldn't lose its composure and patted it into the back of his jean pockets. Once it was secure, he spread his legs wide, lifted his arms slowly. One pointed back into a fist. The other, curved between himself and his opponent.

Naruto's eyes hardened further than before, catching Mihailoff's attention more than his stance.

_This is exciting!_

"I told you before," Naruto began, "I'm here to finish a job."

Mihailoff continued to smile. No more boisterous laughing, no more storytelling, no more playfulness or fun conversation.

It was time.

"Oh, dear child…"

His foot pressed harder into his desk.

"This is a job you should have _quit_ while you were ahead."

**FWOOM!**

Mihailoff's leg shot forward, throwing the desk from the floor and towards the blond youth.

But the former Hokage was unsurprised. He leveled himself to the floor; the desk flying over and crashing into the doorway behind with an audible sound of snapping wood against wood.

It might have broken through but he did not check.

His eyes followed the colossus-man. Even as the desk soared past his lowered form, the ninja was already considering the distance in-between and moving forward in the offensive.

With arm stretched wide and fingers curled into a fist, Naruto Uzumaki closed the distance between the equally prepared and engaged Mikhail Mihailoff.

* * *

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Information:

_**Place in the Sun**_

_**Exact Location Unclear. Special Note: Believed Location – Sakha Republic, Russia**_

_**Locate and Apprehend**_

_**Request: Locate named individual below. Bring body to requested delivery sight. Request – dead.**_

_**Additional Request: Locate special item, Pendent of Grendle'bor, provided by image below. Target is believed to be in possession. (Double payment offered upon completion of secondary task)**_

_**Reward: 1,500-3,000 (Special Type Payment Inputted) Pieces of Seraseno**_

_**Additional Info: Provided information below suggests a monster of unknown makings, type or ability. Professional assistance requested. Last known image of suspect provided below.**_

_**Area specific: Sakha Republic**_

_**Target Name/Used Alias: Mikhail Mihailoff**_

_**(Downloadable Link(s): **__**Mikhail Mihailoff**__**, Pendent of Grendle'bor, Delivery Location(Click to Open))**_

_**Accept/Reject**_

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* * *

_Seven hours ago…_

There is a little known park in this little known town near the sea of Far East Russia. Its founding was ancient, its buildings decrepit, and its inhabitants as active as the ever-present dust that surrounded them. The trees were barren and black; its river brown and tepid; and whatever life there might have been to be found had been stripped clean by the flock of crows, which seemed to have made a nesting ground out of this unpleasant place. Enjoyment was scarce to find and whatever purpose the small rural area played, aside from holding residency to those nearby, was not well known. All that could be said was that the black trees, black birds, brown water, and more black-stained buildings, gave the area something akin to that of some B-grade horror film movie set appearance (except with town being real and not a set and instead of offering a sense of terror to visitors, the town and park echoed a certain lifeless, boring, stale atmosphere which offered neither surprise nor any sort of functionality aside from simply being a part of a much larger continent). The hour was nearing midnight and, were it not for the moon shining around the clouds above, the place would have been entirely cloaked in an otherworldly shade of black.

It was in this weird place, at this late hour, that Naruto Uzumaki found himself sitting idly down on an old park bench. Leaning forward, hood over his face and hair, and trying to remain as inconspicuous as the contrasting orange of his clothes, to the reflective light of the moon to the dark woods, would allow.

He was waiting. That much was obvious. His lack of seeming issue to his surroundings or need to apparently move away from such dower settings was proof enough. His frequent glances to his phone, eyes scrolling over the time slot, were added proofs that, though waiting, his impatience at whatever was supposed to come in the near time was steadily growing.

He was an active, energetic and lively person; something that had not changed in a…well…

In a _very_ long time.

The blond waited. And waited. And waited some more. He understood when his waiting would be over but that didn't stop him from wanting time to speed itself up, even a little, for his benefit.

He was silly like that.

Though, as it now seemed, he would not have to wait for much longer for something to happen. Because now, down the walkway of the park, the sound of a twig breaking –

_Ssssnap!_

– echoed softly through the park.

Naruto didn't glance up to the sound, at first. It was too obvious and deliberate to have been unintentional. Instead, he listened and kept his head low, waiting as a small patter of soft feet made its way towards him.

_Pat pat pat pat pat pat pat…_

They grew louder the closer they came towards the bench. They weren't rushing and they weren't particularly heavy; if needed, Naruto guessed, even in his state, that he would be able to defend himself against whatever was obviously trying to make itself known to him. A curious thought wondered if the obvious presence was some sort of distraction for him to focus his wits and attention towards but the presence did not seem particularly nervous or hesitant as it made to smoothly reach Naruto's area of waiting.

_Pat pat pat pat pat…_

The steps grew louder still. Nimble footsteps, Naruto guessed whoever was coming wasn't a particularly heavy individual. The soggy earth of the park gave audible noises with each step. If a sneak attack was coming, this would have been an unsatisfactory setting to do it in. Not to mention his 'possible-but-unlikely-assassin' would have had to have been the most incompetent killer for hire he'd ever known to be so obvious in his presence.

_Pat pat pat…_

Forty feet away.

He could only assume, without particularly looking attentive or appearing to notice the sounds, the distance of the feet. The owner of the walking feet wasn't far off.

_Pat pat pat._

Thirty feet.

The feet didn't slow or alter in their rhythmic pitter-patter as the distance between their owner and the blond shortened. Naruto tried to feel the new arrival; ninja could feel the alterations of their surroundings and even tell the intentions of others simply by their presence alone. Even without being looked upon, the waiting teen could acknowledge that the presence did not feel threatening.

In fact, it seemed to be attentively looking at something, but not at Naruto.

_Pat pat pat._

Ten feet.

The feet were practically right in front of him.

_Pat pat…_

Five feet in front.

They paused.

Naruto kept his head down.

…_Pat pat pat pat._

And walking started up again. More patter. The blond didn't look up – he was waiting where instructed. Though this did beg the question of who just stopped in front of him.

_Pat pat pat pat pat…brush._

The footsteps stopped. Twenty feet away.

Naruto didn't need permission this time. He looked to his right to where the owner of the walking feet had…well, _walked,_ and stared to the figure whom now leaned lazily against a darkened tree.

This was the first good look on the walking figure, and Naruto was right – he _was_ small. Like, three-and-a-half to four feet small. This lonesome-leaning figure would have barely reached to Naruto's chest with such a stature. And his clothes – a dark hoodie with the hood up, dark jeans an inch too long in size, and shoes just as dark colored (right down to the shoelaces, which almost looked like they'd been color-markered to be as black as the rest of the assortment) – were so shamelessly obvious in their attempt to appear normal and not-out-of-place that they were just as glaringly obvious in the woods as Naruto's orange coat.

The only difference: Naruto could actually work with his brightly colored garments to appear inconspicuous. Took years of practice but he could. This small, dark clothed figure was so obvious in his trying to be unnoticed that he made himself _more_ noticeable.

In a haphazard way, it reminded the Uzumaki of himself when he tried to sneak attack one of his old friends by yelling 'sneak attack' during the process. It was obvious, seen from a mile away, and worked against, rather than for, him. The blond sitting on the bench would have laughed – he honestly felt the need after such a long weekend and now looking at such a poor and inaccurate attempt at 'sneakiness' from this park's newcomer – had he not then heard another soft noise coming in the direction of the previous walker.

_Patpatpatpatpatpatpatpat._

More soft feet. Naruto didn't turn his head away. The steps were faster – running, he guessed – and coming in quickly. It didn't take long to see the owner of the feet, in comparison to the walker-now-leaner-of-a-tree; dark clothing, dark shoes, hood over his head, and a physical height of just over three feet. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that this new fellow was associated with the leaning-on-the-tree figure. The only noticeable difference was that this one ran down the path at a comfortable pace rather than walked, although if his lack of roughed clothes or steady stepping was any indication, it was an easy assumption to presume that this 'runner' had only just started his quickened trot some moments before.

The running figure quickly moved past Naruto and down the path without moving his head an inch towards the blond. The former Hokage, for his part, didn't bother to even pretend he wasn't watching the 'runner.' The obvious connections between the two newcomers was glaring – the similar dark clothes, small statures and evident signs that they were trying to appear discreet to anyone around. The whole thing was…weird and glaringly obvious.

Especially when, ten-fifteen feet away from his bench, the runner stopped, went down on one knee, and began to tie its shoes vigorously.

The tightly tied, clean, and largely unworn-out shoes.

Naruto found the whole thing a silently hilarious situation. He almost felt like laughing, or at least chuckling. The whole charade of appearing inconspicuous while wandering around the nearby area was laughable. He had little doubt whoever messaged him through the phone was the instigator for this unusual meeting in the woods and this showmanship of the two small figures. Although the blond could not be certain if this 'show' was some purposeful attempt to assure him he had reason to be calm and that the people to his left and right meant him no harm, or just that the two were the worst beings at the art of stealth Naruto had ever seen. It was by this only line of thought that prevented him from either laughing or standing guard against whatever might have next.

However, it seemed he would only have to hold back his laughter for only a few short moments, as yet again another set of footsteps were heard.

_Pat._

_Pat._

_Pat._

_Pat._

A slow walk. Heavy steps. Coming from the left – the runner's side. Naruto only needed to raise his head a little higher to see the new arrival.

The first thing to be said about the latest visitor to the park setting was that he (if it was safe to assume it was a 'he') was _taller, broader, _and strikinglybuiltlike a small _bull_ when compared to the smaller, nimbler others before him. From dress, to walk, to presence, to height – what words might have been used to describe the first two figures would _not_ be said for this heavier character.

This individual wore nothing resembling the clothing choices his (assumed) compatriots had opted to wear. Instead, he wore something considerably more color-contrasting, in-human and _heavy_ by design. From his shoulders to his legs, the new figure wore armor of definitive design. Jeweled, reddish-gold and heavily plated armor hung from broad shoulders. Each piece reflected impressively under the glow of the moon. As the distance closed between Naruto and the figure, the sounds armor, of an obvious heavy weight and most likely expensive material, was starting to be easily heard. It was only drowned out by the dark-leather and metal-toed boots that fought against the sinking mud of the park, slamming into the earth and splashing dirt around as they trudged further towards the park bench. And finally, as if there only to strengthen the already prevalent air of elegance and power the already dominant figure's appearance gave off, a long silver cape glided over the mud in his wake.

_Royalty._

Undoubtedly, this ensemble of heavy armors, jewels and fine-clothed cape left little doubt to the idea that this figure was of considerable wealth and importance. Even Naruto, largely unfamiliar to defined 'fashion-senses,' would have had to be intentionally clueless to this level of obviousness. All the figure was missing from his dress was a golden crown atop his head to complete the appearance of 'one who ruled.' Which conveniently brought the blond's attention to above the protective clothing and gems.

The figure's head: it was green.

Green.

A green head. A green head with _pointed_ ears. A green head with pointed ears, a roughly curved nose, and hairless from top-to-chin. The head's skin was rough and aged with several defined creases and markings around the eyes. Its chin was strong and wide, with the lips curled down into a long scowl. And from the corner of those snarling lips, a single long tooth – a _fang_ – jutted up in a way that was both jarring and intimidating to view.

But this green headed figure was also worth mentioning.

They were glaring. Glaring _death_. His irises were red and might have come off as violent or promising pain if they weren't so cold and serious. The reason for such treatment of the eyes, Naruto could not know. They were pointed to him, utterly focused, and were only closing the distance in-between. In any other situation, such a look would have put the blond on edge and on the defensive.

But Naruto recognized the figure. Or, at least, what the figure was.

It was easy, actually. Such a creature was familiar, at least by story or his son's games, even in his previous life. From the green skin, smaller than average frame and gruff appearance, this final arrival was effortlessly recognized.

This royal figure was a goblin.

* * *

Goblins.

Natives to the ironwood, blackrock, and ore-rich world of Kana'prune'Khran, goblins have long been a race of easy recognition with a history that stretched almost as long as the equally identifiable humans.

Once infamously recognized for their annoying tendencies, extreme phobias to all things non-goblin, and for being excellent cannon fodder in any war they participated in, goblins held a long and recognized reputation amongst the many races. They were the inspiration for jokes, the descriptive word to describe an ugly or otherwise unintelligent individual, or simply a descriptor to express a person's greed, conniving nature, rudeness, distractible nature, or if he or she was just plain _goofy._

Thousands of years did little to wane these old stereotypes. For reasons obvious; goblins were _not_ amongst some of the most established or well received of species. Their histories in kidnapping, debauchery, debasement and other offensive actions dealt onto the dozens of species they had come into contact with over the long years had done little to improve their self-image. Their ancient actions of invading worlds, brewing chaos, devising misfortunes, and then leaving before any repercussions could be dealt were legendary (and, coincidently, they happened to be the inventors of the term, 'hitting-and-running').

How a once primitive, immature and often times _churlish_ race of creatures ever discovered how to traverse the in-betweens of worlds was beyond _any_ race's guess. But it was quickly understood that these vermin would not be rid of so easily; they were quick, small, and unnaturally good at running away (laughing and whooping even as they were called, in several tongues, _cowards_). What few were ever captured, it would seem no amount of torture or interrogation would help to dissolve the mystery behind just how the goblin society had discovered inter-world travel. Or if there even _was_ a reason for why these green worms felt such jolly at the trouble they caused. The captured goblins knew as much about the sorcery that sent them away and brought them back to their original world as their captors.

It would seem, along with their green skin, small frames, and nimble feet, goblins were also famous for their _stupidity_.

And so, for the equivalency of a thousand human years, the goblin invaders would spawn countless 'mischief-making' events and catastrophes that they alone seemed capable of finding enjoyment in. And where once, these actions by the goblins might have just been considered cruel pranks or jokes at the misfortune of others…it would only be when the pillaging, kidnapping, and terrorizing on a scale that suggested an imminent _invasion _that_…._well…

The tormented races would not have it.

The goblins would have their comeuppance, they declared. From the union of a dozen anguished races among many worlds – who together sought to end the increasing and deplorable actions of these karma-avoiding creatures – a great plan was forged.

A plan to end the goblin scourge.

The Tormented Union, as they were named, searched for many years, coordinating vast powers and magic in search for the secret world of the goblins. It took five years of searching before the location was discovered. And then, once the formations and the armies and hordes of battalions had landed on the rough world of Kana'prune'Khran, they attacked with little mercy or regret.

This brutal strike would lay down the foundations of a fifty year war that would later be recalled as the 'Long Siege of the Goblin Tribes.' The Tormented Union challenged, fought, and brought down the wrath of many gods. To be certain, the war was bloody, harsh, and unforgiving, and had it not been overshadowed by the longer, harsher, and more terrible 'Great War' that was occurring on the human world, perhaps then this historic tale would have had a more significant impact on the events of all races today.

Instead, it is seen as little more than a bunch of different species deciding to bringing righteous justice on a bunch of _maggots._

From the Long Siege, the goblins were nearly brought to extinction. Their culture was in ruins, their vast tribal cities turned to ash, and little of their heritage remained. What few decided against the bloodshed would instead become runaways – _nomads_ – of their own planet; avoiding the wrath of their former tribesman, who saw them as traitors and scum, or the Union, who could not tell the difference between one goblin to another. These refugees ran, preserved what history they could, endured against those that would have sought them dead, and attempted to leave the war behind. Their challenges and tribulations would, perhaps, make a fascinating and insightful film for any audience. Their refusal to give into despair or lose faith in the idea that the goblin tribes could be renewed, better, and stronger than before was actually quite a touching and inspiring show of just what goblins were capable of, beyond their childish, deceitful, and arrogant cousins and former tribesmen.

It is because of those few wanderers who turned away from war – who sacrificed nearly _everything_ for the hope of a future – that there are still goblins today.

* * *

There is no need to delve into the terrors and troubles and woes that befell the goblins after the Long Siege. Left to their ruin by those of the outside worlds and having lost the ways to traverse beyond their blood-soaked Kana'prune'Khran, the broken tribes scavenged and scurried through their war-torn world. Separated and divided, guideless and leaderless, what hope was left to find was frail and small. Many died during the Siege and many more would die afterwards. The foundations of their world had been scattered to the wind – and would remain this way for a thousand years.

Millennia of darkness and fear. The price for their cruelty.

Thankfully, and needless to say, the goblins of today were nothing like their ancient kin. The ones who survived had long forgotten the ways of their more barbaric predecessors. And though Naruto held no previous interactions with the goblin kingdom, that did not mean he was entirely unaware to their existence or their histories. His 'father,' the Great Satan Lord Sirzechs Lucifer, was quite fond of the race of former mischief makers. The young blond could recall many a times were the Devil leader would spend grandiose amounts of time acknowledging stories of the goblin people and had always shown a particular admiration to the green skinned beings. The passion his voice held when he recollected his dealings and communications with the few goblins he knew were always said with evident respect.

But of course, why did this matter now?

Why was the history of the once mischievous and terroristic goblins so important a thing to take note of?

To be sure, knowing the history of a race is nothing wrong. Through knowing the story of another, that someone will then be remembered for however long that memory may last. Infinitely more so when the case happens to be for an entire species. And though many an individual would never know the personals of a goblin, nor the struggles he or she's forebears had been dealt in centuries past, which does not mean that acknowledgment should not be forwarded.

This is especially so when, presently, Naruto found himself sitting across on his bench from the regally attired goblin.

The goblin did not make eye contact, initially. Instead, he – the goblin – decided to merely sit and gaze out to the park's woods for a few brief moments. His breathing was slow and tempered while his stiff posture suggested he was guarding himself. Like an animal set loose onto a new environment, this goblin of noble appearance held his eyes wide and open as it gave brief glances around the darkened park area, no doubt in search of anything or anyone out of place. Though unarmed, it seemed ready and willing to use anything from gauntlet-hands to sharpened, pointy teeth to see himself defended in this unfamiliar territory.

But, after short moments of silence and wandering views over the area, the goblin let out a long, almost-growled sigh of breath and turned to his bench compatriot.

The goblin nodded. "Good night." The goblin greeted in a voice grumbled and deep. "How are you?"

"Uh, fine. Good." Naruto answered back, never having actually heard a goblin speak before but was surprised momentarily to find the voice sounded exactly how he imagined it would. "And how are you?"

"Hmph. _Cold_," the goblin answered. "And my boots keep sinking in the mud." He lifted the iron-toed shoes, which were indeed covered and stained with the brown earthy substance, to his company. "And my kinsmen are by far the very definition of 'imbecilic' in their attempts to perform…_reconnaissance._"

He pointed a long, green and sharpened-nail at the two 'casual-appearing' figures to the left and right of the bench. The one leaning on the tree was now picking its nose while the former runner was now tying its shoes in what seemed to be a quadruple knot.

The goblin grunted in distaste, rubbing worn and dark eyes tiredly. "_Fools_."

"Hmm." Naruto could only reply while similarly staring to the two 'kinsmen' before the royal garbed goblin finally turned his attention to the other occupant of the bench. The teen could not be certain if the goblin could see his features under the shade of the hood and the darkened night sky. But Naruto could undoubtedly see his, and for what it was worth, the blond found no issue with stating that this kingly goblin was _not_ a pretty picture.

He could guess already that the goblin was old, even if he went by only voice alone. But his deep wrinkled features, green-leathery skin and piercing deep eyes would only have aided that idea further. In fact, the goblin's appearance would probably have made most kids of many different species cry out in worry or fear. He held a sort of B-grade movie monster face you'd see on television and most definitely wasn't the sort of face you'd like to see in a dark alley.

Despite this, and thankfully too, Naruto held no issue staring at it. He'd dealt with worst looking things in his lives – both in the political and combative senses – and so dealing with a less than appealing individual, such as the one sitting beside him, was less of hassle than for one as aged as he.

"I am to assume you are the one I have hired?" The goblin spoke again, just getting over his obvious embarrassment to his kinsmen and was now staring to the hooded figure. The look on his face would have been best stated as a 'challenging' and suggested, if given the wrong answer or one that wasn't quickly offered, pain would be the response given.

Naruto offered a quick nod, having already surmised the goblin before him was his contact, as the lordly dressed figure took his gesture in positive.

"Then I believe introductions are in order," he said, with green fingers than rolled into fists and pounded against an armored chest. "I am Arruth'a'Snark! Son of King Daur'Phont and Queen Brashieti. Lord of the Sea of Bronze Tears. Third Conqueror of the Burning Mines. Voice and Protector of the once Scattered Tribes and the now Joined Kingdom of Kase'kan'Ache."

Don't ask about the name choices of the goblins. They used to be simple like 'Vile-Breath' or 'Grunt Tooth.' Now they were all fancy and difficult to pronounce and had a particular despising for nicknames.

"I am he who has climbed the Seventeen Hills of Brandil'hul and been cleansed by The Three," the goblin – King Arruth'a'Snark – continued. "I am he who has forged the alliance of dwarves, ogres and goblins. And I am he who stands as the face for all who were lost and am the descendant of Grendle'bor the First Stepper!" There was an undoubtable pride to the goblin's hard voice and words, now deciding to take in much needed breaths after his listing. Whatever these titles meant to the goblin lord, there was no denying they sounded impressive. Even the two kinsmen, still standing or kneeling away from the bench, seemed awed and beaming as their king told of his accomplishments and titles to the orange-wearing human he sat beside.

Naruto, somewhat taken aback by the introduction, only had this intelligent statement in mind:

"Uh, cool." He managed, to which the goblin lord nodded; it _was_ cool. "Uh, I'm Naruto," no last name needed to be given, "and I'm, uh…I…"

He blinked uncertainly, not entirely sure how to go about what to say next. Fancy introductions weren't his expertise by any stretch. And unless he could somehow twist the 'Devourer of the Ramen Cup' or 'Magistrate of the Pancake Mix' into something more impressive than the conqueror of the bronze tears or whatever, it would probably do best to not make a fool of himself in front of his employer.

And so instead, after straightening himself and trying to not look completely overturned by the grandiose titles thrown his way, Naruto's left hand carefully reached into his pants pocket. He kept an eye on the two kinsmen, noticing the way they stiffened as his hand dipped into his clothes, and procured a folded white sheet of paper, handing it over quickly to the lord of goblins.

"This is Mikhail Mihailoff." He stated with a certain formal tone that only came from years of previous-life politicking as Arruth'a'Snark's eyes wandered to the sheet of paper and quickly plucked it from his hands.

If the elder goblin held any fears or trepidations to the idea of suddenly taking and opening the paper, whether it was some sort of weapon or masked attack hidden within the sheet itself, he did not show it. He unfolded the parchment quickly. Red eyes ran over the marks and symbols Naruto had written not too long ago, looking over every inch of the written sheet. His thin eyebrows creased as he did so; although King Arruth'a'Snark was known by his people as being an intelligent, crafty and by no means unfamiliar with written or spoken languages, try as he might, what he saw on the paper was nothing short of patterned gibberish and unintelligible sigils.

A moment passed. Then two. Then another. Then, before long, Arruth'a'Snark's eyes stopped wandering the scribbled symbols and marks of the paper and lifted his gaze to the (if he was to rightly guess) human boy. "And this is…?" The goblin left the question hang with a tone that was both patient and irritable at the same time. Whether this was because of his inability to read the markings or because there was nothing within the paper to clarify in any way shape or form that this was Mihailoff.

Naruto, for his part, knew this question would be coming. "Mikhail Mihailoff is gone," he calmly claimed. "And his body," he lifted an index finger, pointing to the paper, "is in _there._"

The goblin's gaze fell back to the paper then back to the boy. "Explain, human."

That would be a problem. Explaining what had occurred would be…lengthy and descriptive, sure, but most likely the technicalities and definitions of what was done would fly over the goblin. They sometimes flew over Naruto, as well, the complications of his works. So, to follow his old sensei's 'keep it simple, stupid' philosophy, he began with the most laymen's terminology imaginable for the situation.

As follows:

"It's magic. The scribbles are magic. Magic powers that are holding Mikhail Mihailoff in the paper." Naruto spoke slowly and carefully, looking to the paper before looking to the red eyes of Arruth'a'Snark.

To his credit, the goblin king did not immediately deny or call Naruto on his description for his deeds. Because, in truth, there was something peculiar about the paper. Its feel was crude and simple, nothing like the finer parchments he regularly held or read from in times past, but there was a…a _heat_ coming off the ink of the paper. The air around the 'scribbles,' as the boy so crassly put it seemed to be twisting and fluttering around the marks edgings.

Obviously, the scribbles had some significance, but to what length? Arruth'a'Snark had no ability to say if was one way or the other.

And he let this fact be known. "And you expect me to take only your word for it? The word of a stranger?" Red eyes narrowed. "I wanted a body_, boy. A_ _dead one_. Not some…_indecipherable_ _parchment_ for which I have not the aptitude to guess whether it is as you say or some _fabrication_ to fool an old king out of his wealth!"

The king stood from the bench, red eyes still bearing down onto the orange-clothed human. The paper was held in his hand, tight enough to ruffle it but not enough to (thankfully) rub the ink in any way.

"If you have some _proof_ apart from these markings and scribbles, than _please,_ reveal them. Otherwise, let us end this meeting _now_ before you _displease me_ further…"

* * *

Naruto was willing to acknowledge that, were he in the goblin king's place, he would have held a similar concern if offered a sheet of paper and told this was what he wanted. And without doubt, he'd seen this sort of trick happen during his own term as a leader to the people. His forces, at least in the majority, were loyal and professionals in their craft. But there were the occasional agitators who thought that they knew best about something, decided to take an easy way out on an assignment, or believed the benefits to oneself came before the village and the continent as a whole. These individuals were usually caught, ridiculed and given appropriate disciplinary actions to insure such actions _never_ occurred again.

This current circumstance with the king was different in very few ways. To be sure, Naruto felt something akin to disappointment with this 'turning in' of his work. To a ninja, the sealed paper and his reputation would have been enough to signify the truth of the matter presently. In his own world, if his word was not enough or challenged, he could have simply unsealed the paper, revealed the perpetrator (Mihailoff, in this example) and thus proven the truth of the matter.

But at the moment, such an action could not be taken. The seal worked once and then was ruined. He'd have to create an entirely new Oblivion Seal from scratch and reseal Mihailoff if he wanted to prove to the goblin king the truth of his word.

It was an unfortunate circumstance that Naruto was uncertain if he _could_ reseal his previous opponent. Not without damage occurring, lives in danger, and some significant effort on Naruto's personal part _not_ to wreck the forest and the nearby village in the ensuing battle that would inevitably come. If he had fellow ninja or people of considerable power at his beck and call, he would have no quarrels with releasing the previous Oymyakon citizen because he would be certain that he could then be restrained.

But with the present company of what few goblins he could see, Naruto had doubts – no. Rather, Naruto had _certainties_ that they would be largely inefficient in confining Mihailoff for any stretch of time.

Therefore, proving his claim would be…difficult…

But not impossible.

* * *

_Ten hours ago…_

There wasn't much to say about the outside of Mihailoff Manor at the current hour. It was late, with the streets of Oymyakon deserted. Many of the town were asleep or nearing so, and even if someone were awake and wandering, there wouldn't be reason for concern. The popular mansion looked serene and undisturbed. The windows looking in showed no signs of disruption, besides what might have seemed like the small flickering of a candle. No disturbed noises or sounds could be heard, though this was nothing uncommon; the building's foundation and walls were thick and no noise, during times of parties or get-togethers, ever seemed to disturb the outsides of the village. And if someone happened to see the steady flow of smoke rising out from the high chimney, again, it would not have been a circumstance of concern. Old Mihailoff was just having a late-night fire. Perhaps with tea and cake.

Looking from the outside, Mihailoff Manor was as peaceful, quiet, and undisturbed as usual.

The inside, however, was a considerably different.

Walls destroyed. Furniture shattered. Utilities and commodities broken. Paintings and decorations torn, ripped, teared, ruined or even caught on fire. The famous historical artifacts and pieces that were shown openly in glass cases or nailed to the walls were now scattered across the tattered flooring with varying levels of damage. Mihailoff's prized kitchen seemed as if having been hit by a hurricane. The interior pool had pieces of ceiling and trash sitting at its bottom. The greenhouse was burning. The levels above had similar degrees of ruin to them. Large holes, not originally a part of Mihailoff Manor's design, connected the levels together, not unlike as if something had been ripped or thrown through the ceiling and floorings.

The air was filled with smoke and steam. The sounds of household items cracking under the heat of the fires which lit the home in an orange glow were distinct and not easily ignored. Not a room in the house had been left untouched since the mansion's internal conflict began. Though it was by some miracle that the fighting had not crept out onto the village, the damage within the home of Mihailoff suggested that it would have been quite easy for the combatants to have taken their clash out of the large-yet-confined space.

And between the two titans that did battle within what was once a comfortable and hospitable abode, only one now remained.

Naruto Uzumaki breathed deeply what clean air remained in the broken home, with eyes closed, arms and legs outstretched and looking quite weary where he lay. His back was to the floor and his chest quickly moving up and down from the ceiling to the floor in quickened breath. As honesty dictated the truth, the youthful blond would have appeared worn to anyone watching; his hair was disheveled and somewhat dirty-grayed with dust, his clothes were reddened with blood (not only his own) with his coat nowhere to be seen on his person, and even blunt wounds that left purplish bruising looked only somewhat better than the time they were inflicted.

And even his eyes, which only opened a moment before, still had the barest traces of red remaining in them. The rest had all receded after his momentary rest.

"Argh…" The Uzumaki groaned, his working left arm going to his eyes to rub them clean of any blood or dust that found their way in before turning his head to his right. His arm was in worst shape then his left; bloody with cuts and bruised heavily that would take some hours to fix. The shoulder was a level below normal, dislocated, but it was still attached so 'small blessings.'

He took a few moments, glancing between his arm and his place in the mansion. He was lying in what was the living room; the television had fist-sized holes cracking its screen, the couches were cracked and unable to hold themselves up, and the ceiling had a man-sized hole in. He craned his head to look down the hallway, seeing thrown books and a dislodged wood door lying just outside the large hole separating the rest of the house from the Mihailoff's library.

Entertainingly enough, Naruto couldn't recall who the one to make that hole was. Had he thrown Mihailoff? It was certainly large enough to be an accurate assumption. Or had Mihailoff thrown his opponent than followed through with an almost inhuman lust for battle?

Either scenario seemed likely, but neither mattered now.

Naruto was the victor and Mihailoff was sealed in paper.

Which, as it just so happened, to be a few inches from his outstretched and currently unusable right arm.

That's right; dislocated, bleeding, bruised, and currently without any motion capability whatsoever, Naruto STILL managed to use it to pull off the win! The story and conflict that led up to the fantastic finale was gut-quenching, heart-racing and full of hair-pulling moments of close encounters! And if Naruto were a (mentally) younger man who hadn't just used a forbidden jutsu to put away a foe of unparalleled bloodlust and ruinous intentions, he might have found himself cheering and proudly shouting his amazing abilities to the burning house around.

But as it was, all he could do was curse on the fact it would be some time before his arm could be used for more than flailing it angrily.

_Crick._

"Agh, _this_…_that's_…_**F&amp;$K!**_" Naruto growled, moving himself slowly into a sitting position. His body was sore, sure, but the awkward position his unusable arm decided to take then was less than enjoyable, letting out an audible rubbing sound. And while certainly the former Hokage was no stranger to pain, it could not be said that he was a fan of it either. He was human, after all, in a body that hadn't suffered the pains his previously older and tougher body had. By comparison, this body was strong but not yet at its peak.

And so, with discomforts such as a dislocated shoulder –

"F&amp;%KING SHIT-STAINING SHOULDER!"

– certain levels of pain and _profanity_ would ensue.

Eventually, after additional bouts of poetic cursing, the blond managed to navigate himself to his knees before moving upwards to stand. He almost lost his footing, needing to use his arm to balance himself off a broken couch as he assured himself that he wouldn't be falling over on some piece debris or broken house utility. He wasted little time before lifting the Oblivion Seal from its spot on the ground, giving it a quick shake to rid it of dust and rubble, looking it over for any signs of wear or damage on the ink or paper. And thankfully, there wasn't; the paper was dirtied but untorn while the seal was still steaming from its task completed and had avoided any smudging.

Well, without even looking, Naruto could have guessed the state of the seals; if the ink was disturbed in any way that altered its markings, whether by the fire or otherwise, than the last of Naruto's problems would be him worrying about his shoulder or the burning mansion-

_Rrrrrrrrmmmmm-CRASH!_

…Speaking of which, a large beam of timber than fell from the hole in the ceiling, noticeably where the youth had lain not a minute before. It crushed the floor with a large echoing sound, leaving a sizable impression while turning black as the fire began to turn the once precious wood to ash.

Naruto stared at the spot where the beam dented the floor, his eyes than wandering to the rest of the slowly roasting home. The fire was spreading, though it seemed to have still been kept within the homestead, not breaching outwards yet. This might have been due to the home's interesting design but Naruto couldn't say accurately. All he could guess was, since he could not hear the wailing of worried Oymyakon citizens nor see the flashing lights of a fire service vehicle, that he was still unknown to the village at large. Which was good; he'd much prefer his 'visit' to the small village of Russia to go smoothly. A quick in-and-out job.

Very ninja. Much preferred.

Especially since he had a couple last tasks to perform.

* * *

The library was the starting area for Mihailoff and Uzumaki's skirmish. So, needless to say, it did not come out unscathed. The mentioned hole in the wall was easy noticed and perhaps the most obvious of the room's damage (though Naruto decided to simply walk through the room's entranceway like before, which had somehow lost its door during the scuffle). Candles which previously hung at the corners of the room now sat quietly atop books and scrolls, alighting the old parchment and erasing centuries or even millennia old texts in moments. And what little furniture that had been present before Naruto showing – Mihailoff's desk, chair, comfort items – were now little more than splinters, torn shreds of fabric, or broken instruments scattered around.

Though the fighting quickly left Mihailoff's reading abode, it did not mean that the area had avoided the considerable damage the two men wrought. And what history and feelings had long since been echoed into the room's dwelling was now being erased in flickering flame.

Now, Naruto would never be described as a man of intelligent learning. His old teachers and sensei would attest to that. Sure, he was undoubtedly wise in his growing age and perhaps might even have been considered a philosopher of sorts; his long life of politicking, seeking to continue and prolong the Age Without War, and to secure a future where the children after his own children would be able to live without significant fear were testaments to this. But he was hardly a man who would sit in a classroom to study or venture into a library, such as Mihailoff's, to learn about anything. Naruto was a man who learned through action and of-the-moment situations. And though, to be certain, he was not above reproach to things taught to him that caught his interest or spurred his curiosity, it was a long observed truth that Naruto Uzumaki was better at learning through physical efforts, rather than through lecture.

Regardless of the former Hokage's lack of appreciation to the intellectual properties of a theoretical or even scientific novel, it did not mean he felt nothing to seeing what might have been, and probably were, the last articles and texts of philosophers, academics or novelists. It was his fault that, in some obtuse way, the reads were now slowly turning to cinders at his feet.

He didn't acknowledge this fact for long, however. The room was quickly growing inhospitable, with the ceiling giving way as the support beams that held it slowly lost their holding, mixing loose dust with the small embers that rained down onto the youth's messy blond hair, and the air was thickening with too much black smoke. Naruto would not be allowed to linger. Situations involving fire or hostile conditions were a strange occurrence the ex-village leader often found himself needing to deal with both in his previous and current lives. But that did not mean he had the nerve to enjoy such conditions. And actually, he felt a small pang of annoyance, only for a moment, his body's current lack of coat. He had needed to discard of it during the fight; using it as a small distraction during their clashing between himself and Mihailoff to get one over on the trained warrior's instincts. It had only been a moment's distraction, but he'd managed to deal some damage still.

But the details of Mihailoff's battle were of little current concern.

Presently, Naruto now found himself, amidst having to ignore the slight burnings he received from falling embers onto his arms and hair, moving around soot piles and burning memorabilia to stand under the portrait of the younger Mihailoff. It was, like the rest of the room, burning. The painting was slowly being singed away while its wooden portrait was blackening. Its destruction was imminent but that did not stop the man from giving it a hard nudge to remove it from its hanging and toss it casually away.

The safe containing the serums was largely undamaged. Truthfully, or at least by the Uzumaki's guess, the safe was large and dense enough to quite likely survive the mansion's obliteration. It certainly appeared sturdy enough; there might have been a half a foot of solid steel separating him from its contents. With a combination he could not have begun to guess.

Why the safe was so important than was actually an easy matter to deduce. Though not part of the blond's needed tasks, the concern with the serums survival gave the blond pause and concern.

The idea and reasoning were simple: what would happen if someone else gained the serums? Mihailoff had been a weak, crippled old man with a good soul that wanted to help people. And the liquids he'd concocted turned him into a being with unprecedented ability, strength, endurance and an unrestrained willingness to kill that could not be quenched by any amount of blood. Who knew what they'd do for someone even _slightly_ unhinged.

So yeah. The serums had to go.

Naruto raised his usable left hand steadily to the safe, fingers extended as if he were holding something round. A ball, perhaps. He did not appear to be focusing particularly hard, as his eyes turned and looked to the open space between his hand's digits. He almost seemed casual, actually, even as, per the usual with the Uzumaki character, something strange and unorthodox began to happen.

The air and smoke of the room, which had only continued to grow in thickness and density, respectively, began to twist and spin towards the haphazard-looking blond's palm; curling and rotating around into what might have best been described to the wayward viewer as a 'miniature vortex' at the center of the teen's spread fingers. From the eye of this cyclone of air and smoke that had developed, a small bit of light started to form and expand outwards. A slight outer luminesce of a bluish tinge and a bright white epicenter, growing in brightness and intensity as the spinning power of the vortex began to grow. Then, tiny threads of aqua colored energy began to swirl alongside the smoke and air. It was twisting so quickly but still remaining within the controlled area of the palm. Like thousands of tiny blue threads encompassing a small light. And amidst the red, orange and dark colors that surrounded him, Naruto's softball-sized blue vessel of glowing energy was quite the eye catcher.

The sphere was slowly pressed against the metal framing of the safe. And at first, it seemed the makeup of the ball's energy was being pressed back or rejected by the undoubtedly dense material of the safe. A loud sound rushing air arose from where the impact between the safe and energy met.

And then, after a few seconds of no reaction from either the safe or the ball, a small sliver of dust-like metal fell from the safe. It was the tiniest bit, like a pinch of salt, but it wasn't the last. Slowly, more sprinkles of dust-like metal began to fall from the space between the shining globe and itself, quickly increasing in amounts that were eroded from the safe and creating a small pile of dust at the boy's feet. The safe was an interesting sight; where the blue orb hit, the safe slowly began to dissolve. In a smooth, clean spinning motion, the metallic container quickly began to define a sizable hole in its makeup. Like a large drill, the orb was pressing itself further and further into the safe, carefully done so no issues would occur.

It wasn't long before the hole had dug itself deep into the framework and allowed for serums to be made visible to view.

Naruto pulled his hand back, the blue sphere disappearing in a twist of energy and air as he observed the insides of the safe. The dozens of silvery vials shone with an orangey tinge by the lights of the fire but were undamaged and undisturbed within the safe. They were secured and fastened to their places and no amount of shaking or damage outwardly to the safe would change that.

But in the end, the vials were still made of glass. And glass was breakable.

Naruto happened to be something of a 'gifted individual' in the art of breaking.

Reaching into the back pocket of his pants, the youthful blond lifted to his eyes what might have seemed like a large wad of bills. They were wrapped together by a tight rubber band and, like the sealed paper waiting in his pocket, had small lined marks and symbols covering itself from top to bottom. A quick browsing through the rest of the wadded papers would actually have shown that each were remarkably similar in design as the rest, showing a precision and careful practice to their creation. And looking to their backsides, a bit of sticky material had been attached, as well, allowing for these tags to be capable of holding themselves to any surface they were placed on.

Using his thumb and teeth to take hold of a couple notes and carefully place the wad back into pocket, Naruto quickly went about slipping them into the newly created hole of the safe and placing them carefully where he could. Though it might have seemed excessive, Naruto felt assured that the two tags would be more than capable in completing their intended tasks. In fact, they might have even been capable in wrecking the safe in its entirety.

The word 'overkill' had never been a part of an Uzumaki's vocabulary.

* * *

Naruto stared at one of Mihailoff's bookshelves. Like most of the other bookshelves, the books and contents were laid around on the floor. There was a rather large indentation into its woodwork, curtesy of an aggressively thrown former ninja. The shape was distinct, wide and went several inches deep into the woodwork. And as it so happened, it was a part of the 'little skirmish' the blond remembered quite vividly. The reason being was actually quite interesting. Naruto, as it turned out, actually had quite a recollection of times where he'd been thrown through wooden objects. Trees, doors, tables, establishments – if it was made of wood he'd probably been tossed into it.

So, when the bookshelf felt less like a bookshelf upon impact, especially when his elbow drummed against something noticeably metallic, the youth decided that this particular occurrence required further investigation.

He raised his hand up and knocked on the wood.

_Dop dop dop._

Nothing. Just wood.

_Dop dop dop._

Again, wood.

_Dop dop dop dop dop dop __**dunk**__._

An eyebrow rose.

_**Dunk dunk dunk.**_

Metallic?

_**Dunk dunk dunk.**_

Oh, yes. _Very_ metallic.

_**Dunk dunk dunk.**_

And…hollow? Naruto hadn't exactly searched the house from top to bottom since his arrival. During the former Oymyakon citizen's fishing trip and dinner, the blond would regretfully claim that he had been unable to discern much from the ordinary places of the home. No unusual cracks in the staircases or walls, no unusual dust patterns, no bizarre light spaces that seemed unreasonable for being there – the mansion was modest and low-key except for the door in the hallway which led to the library. And now, behind 'bookcase #1,' he found himself an interesting bit of something.

If Naruto were a novelist man, he'd say this qualified as 'an interesting development.'

Deciding not to waste time in a home that was currently alit, the blond placed a tense hand to the side of the bookshelf, pressing against its sides outwardly. It didn't budge, at first; probably nailed into the wall. But nails wouldn't hold for long after the teen upped the pressing power.

_Creeeeaaaaaku-ku-ku-ku…_

Naruto paused in his pressing.

_That did not sound like a nail._

Then resumed.

_CreeeEEEEEAAAAKUKUKUKUKU-PUH!_

A sound like metal bars being forcibly ripped from their intended placings rang over the roaring fires that chipped at the woodwork of the library. The duress was obvious, suggesting that it would require repair on a moderate to severe case if the bookshelf would ever find itself in need of (though unlikely of a possibility as of that moment) repair.

The average individual would call Naruto's actions 'damaging private property.'

Naruto, as it was, called it '**progress**.'

_CRASH._

And there went the bookshelf.

Behind it was – _surprise_ – metal. A whole bunch of it. An elevator, as it were, with only the smallest of indentations in its center where its two doors met. If Naruto were a gambling man, he'd guess that was where his ass promptly felt out the metal behind (ah, so many butt jokes, so little time) the cabinet and gave a clear indication that this little library had more than just the secret of 'the-super-soldier-live-long-and-prosper-here's-Johnny-with-an-axe' serum.

Now, in most cases, when a building is on fire, ablaze, caught in an inferno or some other fancy phrasing that describes 'a place is smoking up something foul,' you do not use an elevator. That is a safety hazard. It is a risky venture and can lead very easily lead to anywhere between an agonizing, painful burning to a slow suffocation. In situations where panicked individuals are trying to escape a fire or equally bad situation, mistakes can be made. It's unfortunate, but things happen. In the case where an individual, calm in mind and free of mind control, is surrounded by objects alit, smoke and an obvious 'do not ride the elevator' vibe, but STILL decides to throw caution, common sense and worry to the wind (or fire, as the situation would be), than that individual would be declared a first grade _idiot_.

_Ding!_

The elevator doors opened with an audible ring as Naruto's fingers brushed against the door buttons at his side. He walked in without a second's wait.

* * *

There wasn't a lot to say about the elevator. It was sized appropriately, had a comfortable hotel-themed-esque look to it with red and gold wallpaper, and a panel to the side of the doorway with two round buttons each with large letters plastered into their middles: T and B.

Top and bottom.

Well, the big '**T**' just so happened to have a rather apparent golden ring around it, with the big '**B**' below grayed out and looking unimpressive –

So Naruto tapped it quickly.

_Ding! Ding!_

The electronic bell rang as the doors shut in front of him, cutting off the sight of fire and the crackling of burnt objects. In their place was now the gold semi-reflective surface of the closed elevator doors and the somewhat-annoying-somewhat-migraine-inducing music commonly found when you're put on hold by telephone operators. The elevator began its descent after a brief shake with the music being mixed with the dull humming of the gears and engine.

The ride below was long. There wasn't any questioning that. The elevator seemed to move at a steady speed and there was definitely the feeling of lowering. But after a few minutes of that continuous feeling, questions began to arise on whether there was a bottom or not to the shaft. The secret lift just kept going down, down, down and down some more. It wasn't a question on whether 'deep' was an appropriate word to use in describing the ride. And any other time, it would be a wonder if the depth of the never-ending-elevator-ride-with-the-maddening-music-of-the-damned was a sign of the paranoia that was for Mikhail Mihailoff or a sign that the man _really_ wanted to keep his secrets from the world.

Neither was preferably comforting.

But like all things that may be terrible or wonderful, –

_Ding! Ding!_

– the elevator ride came to an end.

* * *

At the bottom floor of Mihailoff's Manor, there is a room. A chamber, actually. A chamber so long and tall and wide that it defies belief. Belief since, twenty years ago, it did not exist. Such a vast hall challenged any possibility that it could be so enormous in such a span of such short decades. Its floors were concrete and smooth as fine silk; the walls and ceilings were colored a sharp gray while the columns which held the weight of the earth and village above were starlight white; and laid out like graves in a cemetery were marble pedestals with thick glass casings on top stood tall.

These pedestals are where the _really_ unnatural stuff started to go down.

Naruto, after stepping out onto the chamber's floors, allowed himself a moment to look out to the immensity that stood before him. The bright coloring, the construction, the impossibility of it all…right below an entire village, this expanse stretched over a length Naruto never knew was possible to build. Even the architects of Iwa – masters of molding the earth into different forms or constructions by their will – would find creating such a chamber an accomplishment only capable in their wildest dreams. The former Hokage had seen many extraordinary sights in his life; this place, simple though it was, would undoubtedly be one of them.

Naruto's pace was slow as he passed further from the elevator and into the large room. It might have been some subconscious choice to tread carefully on these unknown grounds under so much earth above his head. Especially when the only way to escape was a one-way ticket to an inferno above. He half expected the place to have some sort of trap or defensive parameter that would activate to prevent intruders from going further or getting away. But thankfully, Mihailoff didn't seem to believe his hideout under the earth would be discovered. By assumption alone, it could be believed that such cautionary measures might have damaged the treasures on the pedestals. Thus, no explosions, death traps, or laser beams of evilness to worry about.

Small blessings.

The first pedestal Naruto glanced over was the closest one to his person. It, like the other pedestals in the room, was finely crafted with a heavily Greek inspirational design and was made of an almost silvery marble. As mentioned, it wasn't at all distinct when compared to the others around it, and almost looked like exact copies of each and every one. Factory built, perhaps? It really wasn't an issue as neither the glass nor the stand were the real eye-catchers in the room. The items that sat atop the pedestals, contained within the glass, which differed from the rest. Unlike the artifacts that had been freely allowed to be touched and looked into with further detail, the glass around the stand's contents suggested that they were not to be touched by any means.

How did these few items lying here have more value than the millennia old relics above? Especially items that appeared to have…_less_ than significant value.

An arrow, broken at the middle. A bit of silvery cloth, torn but glistening. A feather, white as snow. A piece of parchment with a drawing of an elegant and sophisticated looking woman. Her features were stern but certainly not ugly. An Angel, maybe? Mihailoff mentioned he'd 'known a few' and expressed a certain talent for art and drawing. It seems they were not simple boastings, as evidence showed. The feather was certainly impressively colored and the cloth was almost divinely elegant. Naruto had only dealt with Angels a number of times in his life and it wasn't under the best of circumstances. He wished he had a better clue, but the last item sitting at the front of the glass container, a gold plated plaque written in a language he could neither read nor recognize, spelled out something that might have been significant to the items and drawing in the glass.

He stared at the first pedestal for a few extra moments, wondering and trying to make sense of it, then stepped over to the next.

Some burnt firewood. A brown teddy bear. An iron key. And there was parchment, like the other pedestal, with a girl in her early teens. She was a sophisticated looking young woman. She had, by Naruto's guess off of the paper alone, long curly auburn hair and freckles. She was smiling. Her expression wasn't as hard as the maybe-Angel's. In fact, it almost looked sad. The detail to her eyes and lips were startlingly detailed, another testament to Mihailoff's skill with a pen. And each item lying on the pedestal's hard surface was of a very old age. Worn bear fur, chipped wooding, the girl's old European dress. No doubts could be made about the age of the items within. But they were preserved, it seemed. And, again, like the previous pedestal, a gold plaque sat at the front of the items. But this time, Naruto recognized the language – some old cursive of English – but was regretfully unable to read it.

Since being found by Sirzechs, the spoken tongue of others was no barrier to him. The reasons why were…less than clearly stated. As were a lot of things after his waking up in the sarcophagus. His ability to interpret and speak any language he desired without issue, and in fact make whatever was conveyed to him sound as if it were the common language of his first life (his new life's dubbed 'Japanese'), was an unprecedented blessing that came from his discovery in the tomb.

However, though his ears heard everything in the language he was most familiar with; it seemed his eyes were not given the same gift with the written words of others. And in any situation revolving around written words of unknown diction, it would be up to his aunt Rias, who was intelligent and knowledgeable in many areas of language and written words, to be of assistance. The Lady of Gremory was an expert in reading the weird texts of other species and races. As was befitting her position in the Gremory line of succession. Naruto was…_less_ than proficient. He tried, surely, but where Rias blossomed and bloomed under her mother's tutoring, the blond had been less than keen and gifted.

But that did not mean he was a fool. And glancing between the two pedestals and their contents, looking over the way they were almost shrine-like in design, a small widening of the eyes occurred. A thought began to grow on just what he'd walked into.

He walked to a third pedestal.

Partially out of a sense of still lingering curiosity. Mostly to see if his assumption was right.

A few pieces of metal lined up over a patch of gray cloth. Long, slender pieces. Each showed ware and chipping, either from age or something else it was hard to say. The bits seemed to be made for something mechanical, and going by how some of the portions seemed to be able to go together with another, it was an easy guess to believe the individual parts made up something originally greater. Guessing by the way they were positioned in a straight outline over the cloth, Naruto's best guess would have been…a gun? Rifle? It was either that or some overly complicated blowgun and obviously of a model before the modern kinds. Admittedly, the teen held little experience with the projectile armaments, but was of at least the common awareness to tell that, even together, the pieces would have made something older than what he'd seen from present day movies or television.

So, an old weapon/gun/rifle/blowgun. Check.

Then there was a knife. Nothing actually substantial about it. Just some old war knife Naruto was only able to recognize because he'd seen one such knife on a field trip to a World War Two museum. The only reason the knife, above many other relics he'd seen that day, had stood out and caught his eye was because it was still stained with dried blood. He couldn't remember the reason why the museum had left the knife stained as it was but he did recall why it was such a vivid memory; it reminded him of the days of when he was a ninja. Back in a previous life, old weapons that belonged to well-known ninja would sometimes be commemorated by their villages. And, even more rare the case, these weapons, which did so much good and took great amounts of enemy blood, would not be given a proper cleaning or caring after they were retired, out of some archaic sense of awe or needing to preserve the tool as it appeared on the battlefield: dirt covered and painted with the dried blood of others. Kirigakure, a village of significant prowess and history in the art of bloody conquest, once held long standing traditions towards their fallen heroes, even in times of peace. These individual sacred weapons were honored and could be found in revered areas around their village, forever stained with the blood of long past enemies.

As was the case with the knife and weapons mentioned, it appeared a similar approach was being taken. From the tip of the steel to the butt of the handle, a dried, faded, evident maroon-colored stain could be found.

It was a lot of maroon.

And then, like the two pedestals before, there was the drawn sketch on old parchment. This time, unlike the first two, this one depicted the stern and weary features of a man. Asian by nationality and civil in the uniform he was sketched in, his appearance was respectable. A soldier, perhaps. And the previous items seemed to suggest a military background, as had the items of the previous pedestals matched their drawn-occupant in some way.

And the gold plaque, written in the only language Naruto could read without issue – this world's 'Japanese' – spoke of a situation and gave clue to what this room of pedestals truly was…

_Date: Midwinter of the human year, 1939._

_Location: South Nanking, China._

_Drawing: Last soldier of the Nanking defensive position. No known naming or identification could be found._

_Items: Broken Mosin-Nagant, pieces equaling to seven._

_Tool Used: Chinese knife. Model unknown. Appears homemade. Effectivity apparent._

_History: Worked as a member of a Japanese mercenary contingent. Scouted ahead to enemy position and struck when given the chance. Completed in seven hours, fourteen minutes. Rain drowned out my footsteps. Cleaned up area afterward. Wasn't Roanoke but pleased with results._

_Present Notification: Current belief is uncertain on what happened to the soldiers._

_Personal Feelings to Work: Satisfactory._

_Personal Notes: Drawn soldier almost escaped. Don't let it happen again._

The written words were largely straightforward and not largely difficult to interpret what stood for what, with some personal bits that Mihailoff seemed to think of secondhandedly while making the plaque. For all his grandeur and enjoyment to the words and stories, it seemed as if he was trying to keep this informational plate formal and prompt. Though the situation depicted in his written words were not portrayed with excelling details or grandiose terms, it was not difficult to imagine the man performing the acts.

He fought Mikhail Mihailoff. Naruto was, as disturbed as the thought may be, fully aware of what the man was capable of.

Those soldiers mentioned on the plaque? Those three thousand nearly? As disturbing as it was – as TERRIBLE as it was – Naruto knew what immense experience, the ability to be invisible, and having a body that could bend steel as if it were tin foil would allow such a man with a bloodlust unquenched to do.

Once upon a very long time ago, there was a leader of his village who fought against a force numbering in the ten thousands. This force was a capable, talented and an exceptional army which could have ripped a mass of men and women of equal size without trouble. This leader challenged the force to allow his people time to escape. He fought, for three days and nights, in a struggle against this overwhelming force. This man was a cut above the rest with skill, power, physical aptitude and knowledge of all things combat. A single lift of his finger was said to be capable of ripping a man in half with a roar of thunder and storm. And his skin was blessed by lightning itself, rumoring it to being an impenetrable shield.

But still he died, with seven thousand foes at his side.

So yes – three thousand soldiers? Armed only with knives, guns, rifles – the sort? Against Mihailoff? An over-the-top, grandiose storyteller with psychological, homicidal and genocidal tendencies that could not, and should not, be matched?

Those soldiers never stood a chance.

* * *

As happenstance would have it, it was these thoughts to the overabundance of killing that tore Naruto's eyes away from the Nanking soldier's pedestal and to the entirety of the room of pedestals.

And he wondered then, as it dawned on him just what each pedestal was, how best to describe the room at the bottom of the lift. A gallery? A trophy room? Mausoleum? Hall of the taken? Where thousands upon thousands upon thousands of those long past would never be forgotten? The words were hard to find for the area past the elevator.

It was…painful, yet oddly serene. Like any graveyard, there was a morbid air to the pedestals, but also something personal. By no means did this hall seem to have any intention of appearing harmful, disrespectful or outright cruel, barring the knife's dried bloodstaining, to the occupants that were mentioned on their plaques. Every pedestal, marble and decorated, was a life. They might very well have seemed like little more than altars to the killed, holding the object remains of lives taken from worlds beyond their own, but out of the cruelty of their murders came some remembrance.

Did that make this place by any means less than an account of those whose lives were unjustly and cruelly brought to an end by the hands of the earth's most long serving member of carnage itself? No. You can paint shit gold but that won't change what it is. But that should not bar their significance.

If by guess alone, Naruto could assume, to Mihailoff, every life taken was a life that still held a story. The plaques were significant to this fact. Even if it was only the vaguest proof that they happened, and the items lying beside the portraits did little more to prove this ideology, but it was still there.

A story.

Every life – no matter how long, how short, how terrible or wonderful – deserved to be known. To be understood. Whether as if by tale, narrative, legend or myth, the life or death of someone can be an experience unexpected when learned. It might be hard, sometimes, to do so; to endure the length and realize the bad, as well as the good, of another. But there is an undoubtable growth in the action of doing so.

Strange really. Once, such an understanding might have passed over the blond's head. But now, Naruto actually let himself relieve a bitter laugh from his throat.

He smiled, then. He smiled something old, which did not match to the face of a young man.

_Over a hundred years old,_ he thought, _and I can still grow a little bit older._

Naruto brought his still-only working hand up in a sort of half-prayer and bowed to the lot of pedestals. It was small, but it was probably more respect shown to the decorative representations than they ever received from someone who wasn't their killer. This gesture would likely do little more than feel like an off practice of sorts, as ninja rarely had need for religious practices, nor did many feel a connection or loyalty towards a religious practice, but it was the thought that counted.

Although, come to think of it, Naruto wondered quietly when the last time he prayed actually was. Certainly it was not in this life – there was never the need and Devils certainly didn't teach it. Through his new life he never visited the temples or religious sites in Kuoh and the Underworld did not have the familiar customs his old life had when it came to religion (but the Devils' reasons were somewhat obvious).

Though not often pondered, the former Hokage would admit that there was some required 'getting used to' with the bizarre transition from one culture to another that came with his new life. He _did_ spend many decades learning, understanding and cultivating himself to his past world. Laws, rules, guidelines and publicly accepted actions – these took years to acknowledge and appreciate. His personality and way of leading was heavily coordinated by these fundamental facts of the world. And at nearly a century in age at the time of his passing, the rules of his world had largely engraved themselves into his mind to the point where he did not consider them for even a moment. Second nature, as it was. But then to suddenly be thrown into a new world – _worlds_, as he would later discover – and be expected to learn and adapt himself to an entirely new set of cultures that were as obviously contrasting as the one he knew and loved…

Well, for most people, it would have led to one seriously messed-up case of culture shock.

Truly, were he not reborn an infant, who grew to understand the new world around him and its differences as time slowly passed by, Naruto Uzumaki could only guess how such a transition of realities would have mulled over in his mind. A ninja was adaptable to bizarre changes in a consortium of situations, as was how they were trained. But to find themselves in a world not their own, unable to return to the place they lived and to find out that what they once held dear and close was nowhere to be found? It wouldn't be an easy pill to swallow.

Imagine it now: a new air to breath, a different earth to lay your feet down on, or to look up and see a sky and sun that were not your own. Everyone he ever knew, gone without even the acknowledgement of a grave or spot in history. Essentially alone in unfamiliar and potentially dangerous environments.

These are only a few of the things, astoundingly, Naruto had to take one day of his life at a time to accept. And this was in conjunction with the frequent annoyances that came with being confined into a newborn's developing and difficultly controlled body (which he would not discuss in any stretch of detail, even under the threat of death (it's a pride thing, the average individual would understand)).

But those questions, concerns, and major cultural shock topics were beside the present point. For now, Naruto decided that he had lingered far too long in this 'Tomb of Pedestals.'

Reaching into his front pocket, and amazed that the item he pulled was undamaged still even during his above scuffle, the blond teenager pulled out the slender frame of his cellphone. Its black coloring was actually quite striking when compared to the largely light colored surroundings he was standing in.

He turned it on.

He located a specific envelope-looking icon.

He tapped it with his working thumb.

He scrolled down the message that popped onto the screen.

Then, when he came to the bold, slanted text that read 'Pendent of Grendle'bor,' he tapped said letterings with the same thumb.

When an image moved onto the screen – a picture of a sketched drawing which depicted a long piece of metallic string attached to a smoothed stone of no identifiable significance – the Uzumaki studied it with almost comically narrowed eyes before looking out to pedestals surrounding him.

The thousands. And thousands. And thousands. And thousands of pedestals. Each with their own bits and pieces of diverse items and treasures.

And somewhere, out in the masses of marble stands, was the little tiny pendent.

Possibly.

And Naruto, usually calm in mind and steadfast in resolve, realized the hassle this new search was most likely to be.

"…FfffuuuuuuuUUUUUUU**UUUUUUUUUUU**_**UUUU-!**__"_

* * *

Pedestal 441.

A handkerchief. Three bronze colored buttons. A silver coin. A portrait of a well-dressed man and a French scrawled plaque.

No pendent.

"Not here."

Pedestal 442.

A black book. Some chalk. A twisted, but oddly captivating, woman with a sneer on her face and a pointed hat on her head. The plaque was English.

No pendent.

"Nope."

Pedestal 443.

A handful of dark brown hairs. A dozen stained fangs. A face of a wolf stared out from the old paper, with unnaturally detailed eyes. The plaque was of a language unfamiliar.

No pendent.

"Next…"

Pedestal 444.

A withered bit of what looked like the end of an octopus. What originally looked like a large glass ball was eventually to be discovered as a single, lifeless eye. And then, between the two pieces, a single claw, or maybe even a fang, as large as Naruto's head, sat ominously in view. The portrait was that of a, maybe, squid/octopus monster, as the entire piece of paper was taken up to depict its twisting tentacles and unruly brown skin. Though no claw or fang could be seen on it, the eye and end of the tentacle matched disturbingly. And the plaque was in English. Again. No translation available.

And no pendent.

"Shiiiiiiit."

Naruto growled despondently as his still only working arm went to his eyes to rub them irritably. Some half an hour into his search, and nothing resembling his pendent was to be found.

He growled again, rubbing his hair now before standing at his full height and giving a loud shout of, "Hey guys! You find anything?"

Several bobs of yellowish spiky haired heads popped up from various directions, with blue eyes turning to the shouting blond.

"Not yet!"

"I got nothing!"

"I found a necklace with diamonds on it. Does that count?"

"No."

"I got a medallion with silver string. Is that good enough?"

"Does it look like the thing on the phone?"

"…No."

"Then there you go!"

"I found a baby mermaid's tail. Uh, but without the mermaid's…'top'…"

"…That has _NOTHING_ to do with rocks!"

"Why the F&amp;%K did you even have to tell us that?"

"I hate you!"

"Oh! I found a rock! And some string!"

"Wait, really?"

"Awesome!"

"Is it the one on the phone?"

"Uh…it's a rock…with some string…is that good enough?"

"…DICK!"

"Son of a-"

"Don't joke around!"

"Somebody stab that guy!"

"Oh, come on, guys! I was kidding!"

"Stab him! Stab him two dozen times!"

"B-but I'd die on the first!"

"We'll find a way to keep you going!"

"_Ahhh!_"

As the various copies of Naruto tried and search for the missing jewelry piece without success, usually taking a minute or two to argue or spout threats to one another with growing levels of irritation to their rather boring secondary assignment their 'boss' had inducted them into, the original blond teen could only sigh as he moved onto yet another pedestal. And after the first three-hundred, the feelings of forlorn were starting to grow stronger with each marble alter depicting another gruesomely taken life.

Naruto allowed himself to exhale of a long breath from his lungs, rolling his still-only working arm in a way to help relax, before stepping forward to the next alter with an apprehension he wouldn't openly admit…

_Pedestal 445…_

* * *

_Some 10 Minutes…_

Pedestal 567.

A ring. A single gold band. That was all that sat on its smooth surface.

Aside from the obligatory plaque and the always present drawings that every stand held, another commonality that wasn't easily ignored was the necessity for at least two or three additional items to be present around them. The reasons for each item placed was obvious after a while; they held personal or significant value to the departed or Mihailoff personally. The few engravings written in the gold that Naruto was capable of reading confirmed as much. Whether it was the murder weapon, an item that held significance by the deceased, or a tool or weapon used in their defense or something random that the now-former mass murderer, there was always at least two things that suggested a connection between the killer and the killed.

Except for pedestal 567.

His eyes then wandered away from the ring and towards the two other items behind the glass. The reasons why were because, in truth, where his tired and weary mind was taking him might have been an incorrect conclusion. He might have been mistaken. Wrong. There were plenty of pieces of jewelry scattered around the room, trapped behind glass boxes to be viewed only at their new owner's leisure. From necklaces to bracelets, crystals and jewels, to rings of different sizes, materials, ornaments and perhaps even properties otherworldly. By itself, and from only what Naruto could see, this small ring was only just a golden band, which may or may not have been for weddings or a relationship or not. There might have been an inscription in its inner, a small saying or phrase, where a slender finger may slip in and feel comfortable by the cool metal's touch. But there was no knowing what it might have said. Not from the angle he looked in. There was also, maybe, a desire to learn and a hope to believe it was what it was. But again, just looking at the plainest ring of gold he'd seen when compared to the finer and more outrageous trinkets of the room, there was nothing to really say about this simple thing.

But that was why his eyes wandered to the drawing.

Beautiful. Absolutely, undoubtedly, without question or doubt or reason to argue, _beautiful_. The detail, the radiance, the way the feelings were expressed through the very clothes, the skin, the eyes, the lips, the hair – no photo or picture or art of any sort had ever been seen through those blue eyes and neither would anything compare to the what this parchment had been engraved with. Blessed with, more like, though Naruto would never be so poetic as to use such an adjective. He had a way with words, certainly, but words meant to inspire, to bring about courage and to bring out the very best of one's person and soul. Artistry was not his forte by any stretch, but even he was aware that very few words of any language would have the generosity or the purity to express the depths or the hours that must certainly have been placed into this portrait.

And by his own luck, and lifelong ability to create astounding coincidences, Naruto actually knew the face of this wondrous figure. He'd seen her before. Several times, in fact. And now glancing down to the old English text on the golden plate, his eyes did not need to decipher the text to find a single word that he knew. A word that he had seen written on various portraits, statues, and pieces of art aplenty.

The word happened to be a _name_. And that name was –

"_Laura."_

_**CHR-CHING!**_

The loud sound of glass shattering and falling to the floor was heard from the several clones still searching the room, as once again several heads of blond turned to their creator. Their similarly faced features expressed curiosity to the sound with a small bit of hope that their search was now finished. They waited, patiently looking over the pedestals to see why their 'boss' was up to.

Naruto, the original, slowly removed his hand from the hand-sized hole he created, his fingers curled tightly in a fist. He looked down to his hand, shaking it clear of small shards of glass that had stuck to him during the impulsive action, and opened his fingers slowly.

It glistened, actually, for only a moment. The ceiling lights shone down onto the little piece of jewelry quite finely once it was removed from behind the glass. There wasn't a speck of dust or sign of dirt to be noticed. Preserved and, by only a guess, polished to ensure its condition. Regularly, it seemed.

How curious.

It was a fine thing. So small, but important. He looked at it, studied it for a few moments, ignoring the whispers and stares of his company before carefully slipping his hand to the side and letting the small jewelry fall into his pocket. It gave a small, near-inaudible chime to being tapped next to the phone that had been returned to its former place prior to his smashing of the glass, then went silent.

He turned to his copies, looking largely unaffected by his actions. "Find anything?" He asked, loud enough to be heard even from the wide distances.

"Nothing." One of the clones answered.

"Haven't found it yet."

"Still looking."

"I'm starting to think we're not-_**WAIT!**_"

Several blond-haired men jumped in surprise, turning to the origin of the ear-ringing shout. A long arm waived widely in the air.

"I GOT SOMETHING! I GOT SOMETHING!"

* * *

_Seven hours ago…_

It is never wise to test a goblin's patience. They are creatures who live for the present and care little for things that do not wish to progress forward in a manner or speed which they are comfortable with. 'Time is money', as is the common saying for the goblin society's higher-ups (though there was often debate on whether it was they who coined the term first or some other species).

Interestingly, this lack of patience seems to be a common situation with many species whom enjoyed the untouched realms beneath the earth. Mining and cave-dwelling species, such as the dwarves, trolls, gargoyles and so on, seemed to hold a strange connection with a desire to not dally on the smaller issues or curiosities of life. In fact, they were rather eager to satisfy their constant and near-insatiable desire to move as the earth did; without hindrances or blunders.

Arruth'a'Snark was no different in this regard.

If the blond-haired child offered him nothing further and instead decided he would continue to waste his precious time, then a distasteful and harsh dismissal would be the _least_ he would be given before the night was through.

Though, as fortuned favored both the kingly goblin and the Uzumaki, Naruto just happened to be willing to satisfy the green-skinned individual's eagerness for an answer.

As stated, though he had no way of confirming his words about Mihailoff's imprisonment, there was still a method to convincing the king his words held at least some truth. A small way, which had taken him some time and effort in producing a definite result.

His hand reached into his coat pocket, smoothly and obviously so as not to raise suspicion or seem dangerous, and felt something wrap against his fingers.

King Arruth'a'Snark's eyes lost all semblance of resentment or ire as the boy lifted a small something from his pockets. First, under the dim lighting of only the moon, it looked only as if the human child was removing his hand from his pocket. But as it rose higher, a silvery string glistened by the moonlight to his eyes. And even that small bit was enough to make the old goblin's eyes stretch wide, his body tremble and stiffen, and his breath catch in his throat.

There, hanging by a light bit of string and waving lightly in the dimness of the night, was a smoothed and relatively unimpressive stone.

Just looking at it, the king lost all sense of self-pride to his kingly appearance and allowed himself to a long, cleansing release of air. "The Pendent…," he began, pausing for a second to retake breath and stare at the stone, "of_Grendle'bor?"_

_Snatch!_

Naruto only just began to hand over the rough jewelry before it was ungraciously taken from his hands.

The pendent, now clutched tightly in the metal gloves of Arruth'a'Snark, was brought to the goblin's eyes and looked over intently. It was twisted and turned in every direction the rock would allow, metal-clothed fingers tracing it carefully, with every second a more definite glow of disbelief and absolute joy taking over the once gruff and despising gleam the red eyes of the goblin had.

Once every inch and mark and indentation was gazed over and touched for the sake of his personal remembrance, the goblin king raised it from his face and towards the nightly sky. As if it were a trophy or some prized item now recovered. The pendent did not seem in any way magnificent or special, contrary to how it was now viewed by the goblin. It was a bit of metal string tied to a small, hand-sized rock. Its sentimental or personal values were lost to him. But there was no denying the action of the heavily garbed goblin was not dissimilar to as if it were being presented to a gathering of onlookers or a cheering crowd. Though, aside from the two kinsmen still watching the pair of them from the sides, there was no one else to view this almost grandiose presenting.

It was actually this thought which made the blond youth's eyes quirk towards the edges of the dark woods.

He might have seen movement. He might have seen something that registered as excited shifting. But his wondering was quickly stopped as Arruth'a'Snark let out a rough laugh which seemed to shake the wet ground.

Or it might have been a cough.

Or a grumble.

A snarl?

Or maybe even two boulders grinding against one another – the sound was very unpleasant to hear. And whether it was a sound which came from good feelings or not, there was no arguing it had a harsh ring to it.

After some moments of holding the pendent as high as he was able to the moonlit skies and dark woods surrounding, the gobbling king eventually lowered it back to normal heights. His grip had not loosened its tight hold, but his expression had lowered from excitement to what might be described as 'very pleased.' He sat back to the bench but did not remove his eyes from the pendent. His fingers still smoothly rolled over the stone that was held by the string and seemed all but too comfortable in feeling out the rough edges for what might have been the third time in the last minute.

Naruto did not mind, particularly. But the gesture was curious and did cause him to raise an eyebrow as to why a rock on some string was so important.

And, as if sensing the curious air coming from the orange-clothed human-youth, Arruth'a'Snark than spoke to relieve the boy's wonder. "The Pendent of Grendle'bor. Named after my grandfather, King Grendle'bor the First Stepper and the first Unifier of the once Scattered Tribes. This pendent holds the first stone to be chipped from what is now the foundation of my people's capital – by Grendle'bor himself, as you might have assumed – and the string which was weaved by the grand queen, Seraseno."

He gave it a small shake for emphasis, the metallic thread ringing almost melodiously from the gesture.

"This pendent is an heirloom to my people; passed down through the grand family and leadership of Kase'kan'Ache. It symbolizes the long walks through the dark days and reminds us now of what it took to now be seen through the light. It retells of who we were and now what we wish to be. And what anything and everything that was named after the proud leader of Grendle'bor always means: hope. This stone," he gave it another shake, "tells the story of how we still strive to rid ourselves of prejudice and ridicule and find hope in the ideals Grendle'bor has passed on to us."

He held the pendent towards Naruto, eyes finally moving away from the rock and looking to the human.

"Imagine it. Imagine a great mountain, built upon a single pebble. Imagine the weight and responsibility that pebble must keep vigilantly. It cannot be swayed to move, or the mountain would fall. It cannot crumble, or the mountain would topple. That is what my ancestors felt with the thieving, warmongering and lost tribes. They felt the weight of their decisions and their words every day. They knew what their words could do. One misstep, one sign of weakness or doubt, and the foundation they created would fall. But still, the ones before me brought the people together. They laid down what would be and the ways which they should now live. Proud, not doubtful. Brave, not scared. Together, not divided. They gave the troubled and the distraught the reasons to find strength in who they were and erased the fear from the fearful.

"And then Grendle'bor – long shall his name mean that of _duty_ – found the last Scattered Tribe and pierced the earth with his axe. And in my hand lies the results of his – and his father's, and his father's father's, and his father's father's father's – wisdom, resolve, and belief in the betterment of the people."

He brought the pendent away from the human and looked down to the simple rock.

"It is…uncomfortable at times. The stone. It is rough. And heavy. And a burden, more than a comfort. The stone is passed from leader to heir when they are deemed worthy of the honor. It signifies, to them, their worth is now considerable. This is done through feats of valor, wisdom, strength or honor. I myself earned my holding of the pendent through acts of valor and strength. But my…"

He paused for a moment. But his expression changed.

Arruth'a'Snark's pleased expression was drowned now, not by disgust or irritation, but something resembling grief.

"My…my son…_my son…"_ His voice croaked loudly. His kinsmen, just within Naruto's sight, lowered their heads to the earth. It was too dark to tell if it was to avoid their king's appearance or if they held similar feelings, but Naruto could guess it might have been for both or any of these reasons. "My son…he was beautiful. Truly, wonderfully _beautiful_. A son a father prays to have even a _piece_ of the ability, charisma and aptitude he had. A child of honor and kindness, but strength and wisdom to show his value in spades. He was proud, yet courteous. A champion of the people, follower of the blade, and even the slayer of a _dragon_."

The old king's eyes began to water. Dim though the lights of the forest were, even Naruto could see it.

He did not think less of him. No. Not even a little.

"He was taken before his time," Arruth'a'Snark's voice croaked again, "he was taken…he was taken…he was _taken_…" he lowered his head to the pendent, covering his face. If there was any pride to be found in the king, it would not be found now. "He was so happy the day I rewarded him this…this _thing!"_ Instead of a croak, he snarled. "He wore it. He wore it that day. And that man – that _Mihailoff_ – took him from us!" He snarled some more, bring his hands back from his face, showing the aggression which took the place of the sorrow, and raised his hand as if to smash the pendent to the earth.

But he didn't. The air was tense then, with the arm raised and the hostility so evident in view. But he was no fool, the goblin king. He knew better, after some moments with arm still raised high. Whether he could actually destroy the Pendent of Grendle'bor by his own strength was not the question or concern. The jewelry was not at fault. He knew this. But anger can sometimes displace reason, even if only for a moment or two. His kinsmen seemed ready to jump at the moment where it seemed he would throw the threaded stone to the earth, but their worry was without cause.

The arm with pendent held was lowered back to comfortable heights. And where so many unruly emotions were seen, now only the return of grief took view on the goblin king's face.

"His name was…Brianta…Brianta'a'…Kabriest…"

He looked to be in shock; his mouth opened and closed repeatedly, looking for words that did not want to come easy. His reasons for telling the human these things were a curious wonder. It might have been because he understood that the paper now tucked away to the side did indeed have what the boy claimed and thus meant that the youth was about as close as he would get to the murderer of his descendent. Maybe it was because, even to his queen or others of his court, he refrained from ever mentioning the tragedy and all but seemed to put his son to the past. He moved forward, as was proper for a goblin of high standings; ever steadying himself to be the face of the goblins. He drowned his emotions and his despair with work and hardships and was ever the strong king of the goblins. There were, of course, rumors of whether he even felt a loss for such a wonderful youth but he ignored them. He had to. Arruth'a'Snark would, at least by the masses, _never_ be seen as weak or fragile or affected.

But there was another reason for his lack of empathy or reaction; his child's killer was out in the world(s). Would he have laughed if he saw the affect his death had on him? Chuckle, at least? Boast his cruelty or spur the memory of his child, if only to get a rise out of him? Would his pain make the prince's murder all the more thrilling? It was these terrible thoughts that only made to strengthen the king's resolve to be strong and focused to the progress of his people.

So why then, to this stranger in the woods surrounded only by the two foolish kinsmen, did he now find the words that he wished he'd said they day he put his boy into the tomb of his forefathers?

He did not know, nor would he say if he knew.

But still, the next words came forth and strangled his heart.

"…No…there is no, no worst pain…than to bury your child…"

* * *

There was a brief silence after.

The goblin did not utter further words, nor did the Uzumaki.

The goblin did not weep or cry or bellow and the Uzumaki would not have judged him even if he had.

The goblin only lowered his gaze, looking lost as his eyes went from patch of mud to dirt to grass than back to mud in a way that showed his uncertainty. The Uzumaki, for his part, avoided looking to the distraught father, attempting to offer something resembling privacy. Instead, he raised his head towards the sky and tried to make out what stars he could behind the clouds and trees. Not an easy task, by any stretch. But it did help past the time as the king took to his own musings.

Speaking of which, during his time of offering the green-skinned man beside him even a modicum of decency and privacy to his anguish, the human youth felt tempted to look to the phone sitting in his pocket to discover what the current hour was. He imagined his time was running short before he would have to depart with any hope of making it back to Kuoh. With time to spare, no less. It was only under the uncertainty of whether the gesture would be seen as rude or even threatening that stopped his checking.

It was almost funny. The original plan before arriving to the forest was to trade the items in his possession, maybe have a quick conveyance of gratitude for a job finished and a gesture of respect to signify the pay was appropriate, and then make his way home.

He should have known better. At well over a hundred years of age (mentally), he could almost count how many of his pre-conducted plans came to actual fruition.

This meeting in the woods would be no different.

After some moments of quiet with the king mulling his grim thoughts in silence, Naruto broke the silence in a less than graceful manner. No 'warning cough' or 'tension-breaking gesture;' the boy began to speak his thoughts as they came to him.

"Mihailoff mentioned him," he began. His voice and tone were lower than its previous professional sound. Sympathetic, maybe? The goblin raised his head, at least, to stare in the youth's direction. "He…_talked_ about a goblin who killed a dragon…and was a great," _hunt, _"warrior." He corrected his response from his thoughts. He wasn't lying to the goblin. Not really. But bending the truth, slightly, to a father hurting over the loss of his child was more difficult then he suspected. "He said he was…" _a fond vacation memory, _"…very strong." That was the safe answer. "And spoke highly of his skill." If only in a roundabout way to express his enjoyment of his more interesting kills. "You should be proud of him."

Comfort. Something not easy to give. And to a goblin, a harder thing to accept.

Kindness. Gentleness. Foreign concepts. Especially when offered by another species. The inhabitants of Kana'prune'Khran weren't exactly 'soft-skinned.' And even with over a century of rising beyond their wandering and scavenging ways, the descendants of the Scattered Tribes held to their forebear's mindset of 'strength of the individual means strength to the tribe.'

They were a tough species; a fact that would not be dissolved in the near future.

But still, even a goblin father could feel thankful when offered a kind gesture. Especially one which seemed as if like praise to his fallen child. Many species would see it as almost insulting for their prized heir to be talked about by their murderer in such a fashion, but to hear that his child was considered worthy of acknowledgement from his killer, Arruth'a'Snark would not deny there was some spark of pride that graced his features.

"Was he strong?" The king then asked. "This Mihailoff…was he worthy of killing my boy?"

A curious way to phrase it, but Naruto got the gist of what was being asked: was Mihailoff's killing a fluke or was he simply the better warrior?

Unconsciously, the blond's arm rolled in its socket at the thought of Mihailoff. There was no additional pain, the bruises were almost unseeable under the jacket, and the feeling in his fingers was back.

But the arm was still _sore._

After leaving the mansion, Naruto had allowed his curious mind to wonder how long had it been since he'd had a limb rendered inoperable.

_It's been awhile_. He decided after some moment's thought. _Along, long while…_

"Yeah," Naruto answered with a noticeably more casual tone than before, "Mihailoff was 'worthy,' I guess. And… he was a _freak_." He shrugged. "Strong and crafty in very…_weird_ ways." His eyes trailed outward to the forests. "He liked to talk and brag about the worst things he'd done." His next words were mostly for himself. "I…can honestly say I've never fought someone like him before."

This fact was actually true, in a sense. Certainly, stronger foes could be found between Heaven and the Underworld. And even foes in his life prior. Throughout Naruto's very long life, he'd come to know warriors and soldiers and individuals who could shake and rip a countryside asunder. But they were still people ruled by common thoughts, desires and reasons for whatever actions they deemed necessary. They felt a responsibility and an ease in whatever action they took. He'd known people with power who fought against the corruptive thoughts that came with them. Beautiful, wonderful, hopeful people who knew their gifts could benefit the world. Even those of destructive prowess found ways to use their abilities for causes beyond their combative purposes.

They had been granted, or earned, _power_ and knew what it meant to be in possession of it. And, sometimes, he had been blessed to be the one to set them on the right path. Usually after some sort of fight of conflict between himself and the other. It would surprise many who were not familiar with the blond to discover that those he called his friends often happened only after an exchange of fists occurred; with both parties attempting to beat the ever-lasting snot out of the other.

Through sweat, bruises, and blood, an understanding was formed between himself and the other, leading often to a union between them that spanned a lifetime. And, in some strange way, redemption had been earned by a number of powerful people through this oddly effective method of his. And through this revelation of self, an unbreakable bond was formed.

Naruto Uzumaki was not simply a charismatic leader. His actions spoke just as loudly to the world around him.

A warrior, who through the exchanging of fists, attempted to understand the world.

And with Mihailoff, the circumstances were no different.

Their battle built and understanding between them. It…_connected_ the two…

For better or worse.

"He was worthy, then. I will take it." The old goblin grumbled to himself, contently. "My son may rest easier now, knowing his death was to a foe of value." His hand still held the pendent, carefully as if it weren't some dense material not easily broken, then lifted his other hand which had been kept in the shadows of his cloak. The sealed paper was held in his grip, though it was somewhat crumpled now, no doubt by his once more rising rage. "And he is here, hmm? In this paper? With magic? You do not lie?"

Naruto shook his head. This gesture, apparently, held the same meaning to humans, Devils and many other species of Creation: negative.

Arruth'a'Snark nodded. There was no doubt in his mind; the return of Grendle'bor's Pendent was proof beyond proof of the human's honesty. "Then I believe your payment is due.

"Janatas! Benzin'tirno! Fetch the Seraseno!"

There was a LOT of words that came from the king's wrinkled lips that an average human would have only been able to stare blankly in response to. Though the origin of such twisted letterings to form bizarre words would be a marvel to uncover for a decipherer of languages at a time not presently, and for most certainly a man infinitely more interested in doing so than Naruto, it was nonetheless obvious who the two named fellows were as the king gestured to the still lazing goblin kinsmen at his sides. He barked his command and the two silly recons ran out of sight in different directions. The smaller one tripped over a branch, creating a loud crack and providing a detailed cursing in his folly but still ran. Naruto smiled a little, partially because of the translated swearing and partially because his old mind went to a past life to remember several individuals who liked to shout and use profanity when they did a reckless act, while the king seemed to want nothing more than scorn the two for their inabilities. His green hands were still careful, though, and did not clench tightly to reflect his mood; he still held the 'foundation of his kingdom' and the 'prison of his son's murder,' after all.

It was not long after his command that a new shuffling of footsteps was heard. Harder, slower steps. They sounded as if they were sinking into the mud. And from the small sounds of grunts and growls heard, the weight was obvious and troubling.

The two kinsmen walked out from the shadows of the forest, carrying a large chest between them. It wasn't really an exciting chest; just wooden with iron handles and sides to keep its form. Its purpose was simple. The two goblins were just larger than their carry and appeared quite stricken with the weight they were forced to tug. Being closer now and not trying to hide their appearance as they narrowed the distances between themselves and their king, Naruto could now see their green skin and tightly clenched teeth from behind their poorly-concealing black hoods. Naruto could not say if there was a family resemblance to themselves and Arruth'a'Snark; many male goblins looked alike, as a popular stereotype was. If not for the differences in their height and the possibly longer nose on the taller of the two, the once-Hokage might have mistook them for twins.

They stepped back, then, after a final huff and gentle lowering of the chest. They seemed rather cautious to be near their king, which Naruto could hardly blame them for. The smaller of the two looked hesitant as his lithe frame moved to lean over the chest, making quick work of the iron latches holding its treasures secure.

He waited, looking to his king as his small green hand went over the chest's central clasp. He had a look that seemed to ask, from what Naruto could guess by going off the goblin's not-so-hidden features, 'are you certain, my lord?'

Arruth'a'Snark nodded, a low and slow gesture, not affronted by the silent asking.

The miniature goblin needed no further incentive.

He pulled back the top of the chest, revealing the trapped, silvery-white glow within.

* * *

The Pieces of Seraseno.

Named after the first queen of Grendle'bor the First Stepper, the Pieces of Seraseno (or just simply 'the Seraseno') are the prized gems of the goblin kingdom.

Glistening with what seemed like thousands of tiny, silvery-gold diamonds, the Pieces of Seraseno were round, perfectly smooth orb-shaped minerals found solely on the resource-rich world of the goblins. And mind you, it was not an exaggeration when these minerals were described as 'smooth;' since the beginning of their discovery by the goblin kingdom, each piece discovered appeared as if they were chiseled and crafted by an artisan of unmatched skill. They were, by their very discovery, perfect. Their beauty was desired, be they of the goblin people or not. Flawlessly circular and smoother than would be expected of something found within the earth; with each piece the same as the other without so much a nick, crack or distinguishing mark to be found upon their finding. As if placed there by hand. They were as hard as diamonds and as even as pearls. A wealth of precious stones, so important to the goblin people, that they say even a glance at one such nugget would be worth a goblin's weight in gold.

But why were they valued so significantly? As pretty as diamonds, as round as pearls, and holding an interesting story of finding? Certainly, this might be enough for goblins and maybe enough for a few species who appreciated the minerals of other worlds. But this would not be enough to make them the renowned and highly valued jewels, whose worth was almost beyond belief. Not even remotely.

But that was there the last two factors came into play; two factors, which practically made the Seraseno hold immense customer value and seem almost _divine_.

First: where minerals and jewels of many worlds often measured to near incalculable quantities, the Seraseno were remarkably _against_ such a practice. There number was ten-thousand. And no, not some number above ten-thousand nor a few digits below – there were _exactly _ten-thousand. The mine in which the Seraseno were found and excavated had been, almost literally, twisted and turned and flipped upside-down in search for more of the precious mineral. But the goblin's search was for not as the mineral had been extracted and the mine made barren in quick succession. And then, once it was confirmed the pieces were removed without so much as a scrape of Seraseno to be found left, the pieces which had been found were gathered and then placed under the control of leadership of the kingdom. And that is to say, everything between their preservation, selling, trading, maneuvering –_everything_ about the limited quantity of the Pieces of Seraseno was handled _directly_ by the king and queen.

When the royal family of the Pieces of Seraseno's founding species were the only one that were allowed to say who was allowed to touch or even see the rare jewels, you _know_ there has to be a valuable reason for it.

And then there was the second reason for why the pieces were so valuable. The purpose, as perhaps it should be mentioned, was also for the reasons why the Seraseno were considered by a majority of races and species to be mystic or even _divine_ in nature (which was humorous to the goblin people, as the people of Kana'prune'Khran held no system of belief to a religion or god).

The rumors behind their magical-essences or divinity came from a rather simple factor: they glowed.

_Glowed._

Not the 'oh, they reflect the light so amazingly that they are hard to even look at' glow. The _literal_ glowing. Not entirely dissimilar to how a small jewel would glisten under a fine light, but in the case of the Seraseno, no light was required. The pieces glowed, constantly, regardless of whether they were beneath the sun or the stretches of a moonless night. They shone a rather magnificent silvery-gold that could not be missed.

Or ignored, really. They had the effect of just wanting to be stared at.

Neither blinding nor dull enough to be difficult to view, these lights which shone from the center of the small nuggets were what struck the eyes of others. It is what made them seem divine and gave them an additional sense of worth. Nothing, save perhaps the rumored treasures locked within the Holy City of the Angels, which held the same constant light-sourcing capabilities that made up the Pieces of Seraseno.

And thus, with their impeccable designs, their luminescent forms, and the limited quantity that were available to them, the Pieces of Seraseno thrived by both the rumor of their discovery and the immense importance they held to the head family of their kingdom. They were kept safe and hidden, only to be used as the lord and lady of the kingdom saw fit.

They were given as gifts to the influential, be they goblin or otherwise once the ways of traversing to other worlds was discovered again. They were very rarely traded, but when they were, it was in exchange for large favors, items of extreme worth, or to solidify a union between two species (as was the case with the alliances with the dwarves and ogres). But even still, when the leadership felt the need to relinquish their hold on their precious stones, it was remarkably still in only a small quantity.

They were discovered just over a hundred years before. The way to traverse the spaces in between worlds was rediscovered sometime after (though this was purely coincidental). And since the discovery of the ten-thousand pieces, only a few hundred had ever been allowed out of the royal family's Castle of Stormhelm and offered to close allies or associates alike.

The goblin tribes, and especially their leadership, were particular about their almost priceless treasures.

And as something of fun note before this lesson of the Pieces of Seraseno will be concluded; it was often a wonder on how these tiny goblin gems would compare to the curious question of which was worth more: a hundred Pieces of Seraseno, three mountains filled with gold, or pure Cryperion stone the size of an ogre's head?

The vast majority of races may never know or agree upon an answer.

And so, as a final note to their highly desired and highly curious worth, it would be seen as quite surprising to anyone familiar with the Seraseno's value to suddenly discover three-_thousand_ of the tiny nuggets now glowing intensely under the earth's dark, Russian sky.

* * *

Shining.

Beaming.

Radiant.

Iridescent like thousands of small, distant stars in the night.

Beautiful.

Wonderful.

Warm.

They illuminated the forests around.

Naruto quickly covered his eyes, letting out a surprised grunt as the brilliance overtook his view.

Arruth'a'Snark fared little better, lifting his red cloak to block the luminance.

His kinsmen screeched something vile, mixing in cries similar to, "My eyes! Oh, _uncle_, _MY __**EYES**__!"_

The air did not shift. The earth did not shake. The trees did not catch fire nor tremble by the brilliance. There was no ring of or chime to be heard or given warning to what was about to occur. Aside from the light, no otherworldly effects came from the chest.

This was no Pandora's Box. No twisted djinn in a bottle.

It was a chest, filled with three-thousand radiant Pieces of Seraseno.

And it was as close to 'lightning in a bottle' as was possible by mortal hands.

Naruto tried to move his hood further over himself, with the orange fabric doing as best as it was able to cover the now semi-blinded blue eyes.

He stood then, after a trying twelve seconds of trying to work the halo glares out of his vision to little success, and moved towards the chest. His hands were outreached towards the origin of the shine, looking to grab hold of the box's top and stop the irritable luminance.

He felt the edge of its wooden top. His hand dipped further forward, tapping onto what felt like perfect marbles. They were warm. Hot, even, but not at all uncomfortable. And the way each rang as they tapped against one another was like tiny bells. He moved past them and felt the far edge of the chest.

There was the top's latch.

He didn't wait to throw it down with a hard 'clap.'

And the stars in the chest were turned off.

Something resembling visibility was quickly returned to the area. The blinding white was quickly faded, with all that was proof that there even was a grand shining was the chest of which Naruto now had his hand firmly atop of and the halos of light that promised to not fade for some time.

His mouth was slightly agape as he took in several quick breaths, his chest moving up and down from the action. Although the air had not been heavy or difficult to breath, being suddenly engaged, at least visually, by such an engulfing light in what was originally a very dark environment had a remarkable way of leaving one short of air in their lungs.

Turning his head back to the bench and ignoring the screaming goblins, the old king seemed to be doing little better as he. His red eyes stared blankly out to the forest, looking dazed at what had just occurred and blinking away the persistent halos. Although Arruth'a'Snark had retrieved the jewels from his trove with the assistance of his personal aides, he himself had not been the one to store them within the chest. His retainers had actually suggested he stay back as they prepared the load, and had they been anyone else to suggest such an act of preparing some of the grand treasures of his kingdom without his notice, he might have had some heated words to give them. But his trust in their services was something of note, with only just this moment realizing why they were hesitant to allow him to see the significant quantity of Seraseno in one place.

In most circumstances, the old king would say, without quarrel, that he felt immense confidence in the abilities and worth of his staff.

Certainly more so than for his still screaming kinsmen:

"Ah, water! Somebody get me water!"

"Oh, _oh_, the horror! _The horror!_"

"It's just too bright! _Too bright!"_

"_The HORROR!"_

Ignoring their enormous aptitude for stupidity, Arruth'a'Snark turned his attention back to his hired help, watching as the boy returned to his spot on the bench, rubbing his eyes.

"I must…_ask_ your forgiveness," blink, blink, "I was not aware that they were so," blink, blink, blink, blink, "…_luminescent_ together."

The goblin kept his eyes on the boy. Besides his lower mouth and neck, there wasn't much left to view. So there was a small surprise when the blond lifted his head a little higher to view, a little easier to view, under the hood.

Blue eyes. A light shade. Very. Most goblins did not have this color of eyes, they were a rarity. No one wants blue eyes, not a citizen of Kana'prune'Khran. Superstition-ish old crones believed they were the eyes the born of ruin, the sign of trouble and hate. But superstitions weren't fact, and even commonly thought superstitions were still superstitions. Arruth'a'Snark was a man of fact. Strength, valor and honor – they were the popular factors that situated his rule. But wisdom and intelligence – they were factors that could not be ignored. The paranormal ideologies of a few small, overly crazed women did not have a place in a king's rule.

Birth marked cheeks. An unusual trait, but who was he to judge. They were certainly distinctive. Maybe they were fake, not an impossibility. For someone who kept a hood over his head and his face mostly hidden (was 'Naruto' even his real name?) then having such marks would be easily enough to remember. Getting rid of them could change someone's entire perception.

He saw his eyebrows – a sharp yellowish tinge. Blond, sure. Very. Humans were fans of dyes and the interest had stretched to some species he'd come to know. Where these dyed? Dyes were glaring on a species, especially since very few seemed to remember their eyebrows or stretched the dye to the very roots. Dyes were accessories. He couldn't see the top of his head which meant he could not see the rest of his hair, but going off only eyebrow color meant it wasn't enough to say whether it was dye or not.

Arruth'a'Snark's concluding thoughts:

_What a curious human._

"Yeah," the human breathed, tilting his head from side to side with the audible snapping of joints only being heard, "…_yeah…_"

There was no room for argument. Not even with himself. Not even the showiest flashbang had the overwhelming showing that the contents within the now-shut chest held. The light had been constant and invading; covering the eyes and shading oneself with whatever was available did little to prevent such radiance (which, come to think of it, props to the goblin's treasure chest; not even a shimmer was revealed from its thick wooden case).

Arruth'a'Snark nodded to the human's simple words. If he were annoyed by the lack of respectful addressing he received, he did not show it. Though as a king, a certain appreciation, if not for the person than at least the station, was expected, it did not seem to bother the green-skinned man.

Instead, he moved from the bench and, even with standing at full height, patted the large chest with his gloved fingers (sealed paper tucked back with his thumb), "Three-thousand Pieces of Seraseno. As was our agreement." He nodded to himself, satisfied, but frowning. This much treasure for the return of a pendent and the handing over of a folded sheet of paper would have seemed like an unfair deal to many. But let it not be said that Arruth'a'Snark, Lord of Goblins, did not value honor and integrity.

The pact was set. He was given his due. And thus, payment had to be given.

As was right.

He then took a deep breath. "By the people of Kana'prune'Khran," he began, "I would like to thank you for the service you have done on their behalf. By the high family and leadership of Kase'kan'Ache, we would like to express our deepest gratitude at the return of our proud symbol and the justice that was dealt to our enemy. And…"

He stopped.

This speech was something he thought up while on the journey to the human world; some partially grandiose phrases and words which expressed his gratitude but still established himself still as a strong king. Of course, he had high doubts that his half of the bargain would be met. But in the offhand chance that success was found…?

This next part was not part of his original speech. Rather, the words after were spur of the moment thoughts that felt to compelling to ignore. "And by myself, Arruth'a'Snark… Son of former King Daur'Phont and Queen Brashieti…Lord of the Sea of Bronze Tears and…Conqueror of the Burning Mines…" He took a deep breath. Speaking his titles seemed almost tiring then. "Voice and Protector of…of the now Joined Kingdom of Kase'kan'Ache…and as a father," he turned his gaze away from the human and to his hand. His thumb was caressing the stone, once more, "there are no words in my tongue that can express this humble goblin's feelings of gratitude. No colorful palates, no bardic songs, nor lines from fine literatures can say how deeply I feel indebted to you, one who goes by the name of 'Naruto.'"

He stood straight, right arm dipping behind his back while his left hand, clenched into a fist with pendent, pounded against his armored chest.

"May you find the value of the Pieces of Seraseno to your liking. May they bring you great comforts and fine living for all the years you walk the many earths that may be found."

A fine gesture, a strong string of words, and then lord Arruth'a'Snark returned to his spot on the bench.

* * *

He stared to the king.

He stared to the chest.

He stared back to the king.

Then returned to staring at the chest.

Now he had his eyes on the kinsmen.

They were still there, behind the chest. They weren't screaming about lights or eyes or whatever else. Just watching them.

Gaze back to the king.

Where did Naruto go from here?

There was the obvious decision to make: take the chest, make tracks, don't look back. That would have been the easiest choice to make. Fastest. Most profitable. Wake up tomorrow – or was it today? – and make it all seem like some bizarre, crazed dream. Minus the quick revelations that he now had enough treasure to purchase worlds (no joke, no bullshit, Seraseno had WORTH) and a very important ring in his pocket.

But there was one endearing, ever-present problem with Naruto Uzumaki which prevented such an action to be taken. One simple dynamic, inherited by his parents, both old and new, that would never be shaken from who he was. The personal conundrum which prevented any self-serving course to be taken.

The issue: Naruto Uzumaki had a knack for getting invested in the problems of the people and the world.

In simpler terms, he _cared_.

Which meant, after a few moments of turning his head between the quiet king, the wooden chest, and the foolish kinsmen, one question that had stirred in the back of his mind, one he hadn't realized he was curious of except for a few fleeting moments, passed through his lips.

"How _did_ you find Mihailoff?"

His tone wasn't demanding. Only wondering, as if only a passing curiosity.

Arruth'a'Snark lifted his eyes from the pendent once more, meeting the boy's blue. He heard the question and found no issue in answering it, as the tale was actually quite a series of coincidences and peculiar situations that made up a rather…_amusing_ circumstance.

"My son did not only lose the Pendent of Grendle'bor," he began. "When his body was discovered, his armor – a great set of steel plating, gloves and leggings crafted by a rather competent female dwarf he knew – and the curved sword which slew a dragon were missing. The attack was deemed a mugging, though by whom or what none of my agents could deduce. For five years, my house looked into every possibility, every contact available, every rumor that might have been. Rumors which, as I would only find out to late, did touch on what some called a true 'boogeyman' which took the lives of those whom caught its eye or stroked its curiosity. Such things at the time, however, were without fact or proof beyond speculation. A shadow, as it was, which only now seems to have held some worth to it.

"For five years I waited, sending out my _Word-Seekers_ to deem anything of value from the worlds beyond with the promise of significant rewards to whoever brought me a great return. But as the time went, my doubts grew and a dreaded fear began to take my heart. For it was by my honor that my son's killer would be brought to justice. Should I have been incapable of performing such an act, no matter the personal cost, then I would find myself unworthy to walk within the Endless Mountains.

"But my worries were unneeded, for only a month prior to tonight, a curious Word-Seeker rushed into my hall, calling for my attention. In most times, such an action would have been dealt with unfavorably; not often was it acceptable, during a festive evening, no less, for no one of renowned import to break decorum and enter the halls of Stormhelm. Especially when the Word-Seeker declared that what he carried was not words – something which irked me greatly, I confess – but a claim to hold a gift of great worth instead in his pack. I had no need for gifts and this…_pup_ of a Word-Seeker was so new, I found myself doubting if even he was worth the time to hear out.

"I ordered him to be taken away from my presence, more mercy than I was often willing to show such insolence. But the Seeker surprised me then; shouting and fighting with what he carried. He tossed it to the ground, with dirt and dust falling onto the fine tiles, as close to my feet as he was able.

"I admit the ferocity of this small child's resolve was…endearing. I am a king, and my presence must inspire order and love, but the youth's pluck was intriguing. He did not strike me as a fool…" he looked to the two goblins behind the chest, who were casually picking their noses and glancing to the star-filled sky, "…so I indulged in his wanting. I called off his removal, promising a fate far worse should my time have been wasted on his ploy, than revealed whatever 'gift' he had felt such intensity to show me to the room entirely.

Arruth'a'Snark lips twitch into what might have been a smile, and a proud one at that.

Or it could have been some cruel smirk meant to scare small children. It was still difficult to tell.

"It was a glove which bore the markings of my leadership," he lifted his own hand up, showing off the craftsmanship with a slight engraved three-slashed symbol embedded in its center. "Steel coverings, flexible grip, leather under – I am quite familiar with the design, as was my son.

"As you may imagine, inquiries were made on how and where he acquired such an item. Certainly, there was a chance of it being an astounding forgery, but it mattered not. It was more than the years had given me, and I would be _damned_ if I did not take the opportunity to discover its origin.

"So, I questioned the lad myself, curious to where such a glove was found. And, oh, what a tale he had…

"Far, far to the north of this land, by the river which held the name of Kolyma and to the unnamed sea above, an interesting shop lays waiting for equally interesting guest. A simple establishment which housed an assortment of simple treasures and with two very curious owners in its midst. A married pair of considerable curiosity.

"There is a goblin man, whom I mistook at first glance at our later meeting to be a child. The small man, who went only by the oddly simple name of 'Brak,' barely stood above my knees. But where he lacked in height, he made up with passion for his work. Active and talkative, with a mouth which spelled a thousand words a minute, he was an upbeat goblin, without question.

"The second half of the couple was a brownie. And I must confess, I'd never seen so tall a brownie in my life. Though still quite small by the standards of height to you and I, she was peculiar in that she was able to reach my knees and stood by her compatriot to the eye. She was quiet and still and upon our first meeting seemed to desire nothing more than to run off to a corner of my castle and hide until our meeting was over…although, by their very nature, brownies are known to do this so I did not take offense. Her name was…oh, confound it, what was…Tifra, I believe? Yes, yes, Tifra. Quiet but tall, Tifra.

"An unusual tall brownie with a remarkably short goblin. An odd coupling, indeed, hmm.

"But anyway, what was important of the two owners was not their peculiar statures or because they lived on this earth or even that there union was something unheard. Rather, it was because of the relations between the young Seeker and the shop runner Brak. The two are brothers. And as brothers, they looked out for the other when times allowed. And on one curious, cold day, sometime a little past a month before, an incident that almost could not be believed happened in the small owner's shop.

"As the story was told to me by the Seeker, his brother Brak was away from the shop on errands to the Abrahel's Mall in search of some tool while Tifra took control of their shop while he was away. As he claimed, his wife was small but had a 'mad swing' with a knife." Arruth'a'Snark stifled what might have been a laugh. "Well, I suppose, after having met her since his tale, that I can assure you of his claims without exaggeration. Tifra the brownie is…a_remarkably_ cold brownie.

"But this is beside the point; while Brak was away, a visitor happened on the shop, carrying some heavy loads on an old boat with the intent of trading. A few antiquities, a few abnormalities, and so on. He didn't ask for too much, or too little, and besides being human, an uncommon visitor to the shop, he wasn't antagonistic in anyway. Just a kind barterer who brought to the shop a few good gifts to sell and make a few coins from. Nothing out of the ordinary for the young brownie missus.

"Brak returned that very night to find the glove amongst the purchases. Only the most simple of goblins would not have recognized my sigil nor knew the tale of my son's tragedy. And once his mind was cleared to understand just what his wife had unknowingly pertained, he wasted little time in attempting to contact his sibling.

"My Seeker arrived to the shop and was…well, I cannot fault him for being…skeptical. For all the odds that were against me, I cannot imagine what the young goblin such as he must have thought at that moment, holding one of the stolen gloves of my child. What must have crossed his thoughts then? One brother, a Word-Seeker, who happened to be sent on a personal mission for his lord. While his only older sibling, a merchant, happened by sheer coincidence to purchase an item which could have been the very thing his _king_ desired?"

Said king laughed in his throat.

"The coincidences of creation; how they lead us to what we want should we stay on our wanted paths."

He shook his head, offering a few additional silent laughs before continuing.

"I did not dally on having the shop owners brought to me so that I might listen to their story myself. Through the brownie, Tifra spoke of every detail which came to her of that day. To the words and gestures the customer made, to the every store item he casually glanced towards. She told me what time he came in, how long he stayed, how much money he left with, and…even how many steps he took." Arruth'a'Snark looked somewhat taken by this thought. "I suppose the saying of how 'a brownie never forgets' held more truth to it than I was originally aware…however, the real details I was looking for revolved around names, locations, appearances – anything Tifra the brownie could offer, I would take and reward handsomely for the service provided."

The lord of goblins paused for a moment in remembrance, turning his eyes to the forest's edge.

"It is no shame to ask for another's help, even if that help comes from another creature." Arruth'a'Snark declared. "You and Tifra in the last month have proven this fact all the more true. The brownie was an exceptional aid and provided every piece of information we were able to provide you on your task. From judging the resources her customer carried to assess just how far he could travel based around physique alone and in a simple boat, no less. To offering an exceptionally detailed drawing of the elderly fellow, which was also provided to you."

Naruto gave a nod, even if the goblin didn't acknowledge it because of his searching the dark woods. He recognized the image provided to him of Oymyakon's resident was certainly a drawing of identifiable detail when he first received the message through his phone. Even if it wasn't necessarily a photo, he would have been pressed to say that it would have been difficult to depict an individual who bore a resemblance.

"She was an artist, it seemed. And in addition, through the transaction of hands exchanging coins and paperwork being signed, she had the customer provide a name for the shop's records."

He turned his gaze back to Naruto.

"I am certain you've already assumed whose name it was."

Naruto had but kept silent.

"It was not before long that I worked to assemble my armies and conduct strategies to take the 'Republic of Sakha.' I would move to trap Mihailoff from within, preventing his escape, and with hopefully minor disturbances. I coordinated my Word-Seekers into spies, my kinsmen into drafters and worked to conduct the alliances we held to assist us in our moment for vengeance. The dwarves took time but agreed to assist with all things mechanical while the ogres saw this as a testament to why our alliance was formed. I implored for the aid of golems, giants and other forces that held some form of allegiance or personal favor to our kingdom. I had no doubts that the kingdoms of men were capable; I would require every sword arm and shield I could muster if it meant I would find 'Mikhail Mihailoff.'"

There was obvious venom in the goblin's voice when he spoke the name, taking a silent moment to think over an obviously dark thought that was so vicious it put a now dangerous looking sneer onto his face.

Naruto had no quarrels admitting that he could not fault the king for his negative feelings. The once-elder had children himself and from the moment he knew of his wife's pregnancy there was an instinct that proved all too willing to rip the world apart if it meant they would be protected.

"However," the goblin spoke again, knocking the former ninja from his past-life musings, "before any of my plans could be put into place, I received an interesting visit from an old associate of my grandfather. Someone who, over this last century, has aided my people in establishing themselves a foothold in the works of the worlds. A man with whom I have shared drink and bread with and have gained wisdom from by simply being in his presence." Arruth'a'Snark closed his eyes, thinking. "I am uncertain how he came to be aware of my intentions. He always did appear as something of a man who knew too much for himself. But before four days prior to tonight, he came to my kingdom, looked me in the eye, and told me that my intentions were," another pause, then a pursing of old lips, "_stupid_." The lord ground out with clenched teeth. "He called my actions quickened and doomed to fail. Insulted my willingness to send people to their deaths and to call on old favors for an expedition doomed to fail. He claimed that I was sending an army to do what could be accomplished by _one man._

"Hmph. He treated me as if I were a foolish _greenear _right out of his early cloths…

"Without question, I _doubted_ what one man could accomplish against a foe who slew a dragonslayer. However…_that man_ always had an air about him that said he knew more about things than anyone else. _Smug ingrate_," he whispered the insult, "nevertheless…I could attest to the worth of his words. He and his people were a helping hand in the early days of our 'reunifying' with the other races. They were one of the few who looked past our previous transgressions and accepted what my ancestor sought for his people: peace and prosperity.

"Despite his reputation – or maybe because of it, I cannot say – Grendle'bor extended his arm in friendship, solidifying a lasting union between our two peoples. And though our communions have been far stretched with time, for his people are a long lived race, and have seen the beginning of my reign and will unquestionably see far beyond its end. I can still recall the times I have spoken to him, as both a child and a man, and know the wisdom of his council."

Arruth'a'Snark let out a sigh, adjusting himself on the bench.

"So with my pride then waned…the Lord and Founder of the Grigori, Azazel the Fallen Angel, assisted me in contacting you."

* * *

It was not uncommon for those who were aware Naruto's small side adventures to pass on his contact. In fact, it was encouraged; he did not know everyone who might need a helping hand, and if someone he'd met previously knew of someone who needed aid, and could be seen as trustworthy, than he had no quarrels in his connection being passed onto others. So long as they kept his name and work a secret to the majority of people, he had no issues with them.

But of course, he'd been asked once or twice for his reasons for secrecy? Well, aside from the obvious issues he was sure his 'mother' would have with him traveling around and doing 'odd jobs' that usually had the potential for putting him six feet under, it might have had a partial-something to do with still being a ninja at heart – silly, past-life habits he hadn't quite relinquished yet.

He liked to keep his work 'off the record,' as it were. Or at least kept to a minimal level of limelight. His reasons were borderline childish, sure. But if they did not harm anyone he knew…

Anyway, it should not have been as large of a surprise to Naruto that the Lord of Grigori had been the one to instigate the request. Although Azazel did not often partake in requesting assistance from the blond ninja (after all, he had an army of helpers behind him to do his bidding), he _did_ have a considerably long list of affiliates from all walks of life and standards of living. A list which consisted of several dozen characters who would pay considerably well for the assistance of an exceptionally talented individual. A list several dozen times larger than the teen's own. And one the Fallen Angel had, over the past couple of years, been more than willing to share.

Arruth'a'Snark, king of the goblins and a whole bunch of lengthy-large titles, happened to be the latest in a long line of helpful clients sent his way.

However, as was often the case with Azazel, there was a catch or motive that came with any action he took. A fact which Naruto had grown familiar with as they grew to know one another.

Usually, it was purely political; the Fallen Lord would offer Naruto's assistance to any of those who he deemed close – and often when he himself did not implore his own people to do work on the behalf of others – and through the blond's successful completion of whatever task was sent his way, Azazel would be able to rake in some side benefits of good press for his standings and pleased recognition from his allies. But this time, the young teen had a feeling this was for more than pure political gain, and with his eyes now glancing towards the quietly laying chest in the little known park in this little known town near the sea of Far East Russia, an _obnoxious_ idea began to form.

Obnoxious because, as it was, he had _no _troubles in believing it was what the savvy man would do.

"Tell me," the blond began, still eyeing the chest, "why did you decide to pay me so much?"

If Arruth'a'Snark had any quarrels with being questioned so informally, he did not show it. Instead, rather than affronted, he seemed rather confused. "I was told that this would be your usual rate," he said. "Azazel spoke highly of your skill. He specified that an equally high bounty would be required to secure your assistance." He gestured to the chest, "Perhaps I should have procured gold. It is easier to trade, easier to exchange. But I could not take from our treasuries for this. This was personal. For the honor of my son's memory, the cost would be my own…will this not do?"

The king wasn't joking. The king was asking if the wealth of the goblins, which held legendary worth, was enough for the blond. The _king_ seemed uncertain if this amount would be enough to pay, not noticing the raised eyebrow under Naruto's hood. While certainly not one to take 'chump change' for any work brought to his attention, neither could he say that he was charging exorbitant amounts of currency to purchase his assistance. Of course there was an average amount that whoever called on him usually offered, usually pertaining to a significant but not bank-breaking amount, but never to this extremity.

Azazel knew this. So why-?

"And," the goblin continued, "he also mentioned that there would be a…a _finder's fee _for his assistance? And that you would know what that meant?"

_And there we go, _Naruto thought, with maybe a small smile and a quiet laugh, _and now it all makes sense._

Azazel wanted a share of Seraseno.

This revelation was not hard to grasp, nor difficult to understand as it might have been for others. Azazel's tendency for collecting valuable artifacts and desirable items, whether they were small or large, was something known offhandedly by many across the worlds. Naruto did not need to hear it from the man's mouth nor from Dohnaseek, as being the 'son' of the Lord Lucifer did offer some manners in the ways of providing insight to the leaderships of the major factions of the Biblical Races.

But the story behind Naruto and the Lord of Fallen Angels was for another time.

Presently, he wondered if it would be appropriate to reveal the charade to the goblin king. Play it off as some joke by the Fallen Lord. But there was no way of knowing how this usually proud goblin would react. Though he acted lenient to his bench-mate's open and casual manner of speaking, finding out that part of his great treasures was almost to be given away for a task not even a ten-_thousandth_ of what the orange-clothed hero would usually charge someone for services rendered might leave the goblin with a less than accepting disposition.

But another thought occurred, "Three-_thousand_ Seraseno…" He whispered, getting the goblin's attention. In a gesture that expressed his discomfort, Naruto raised his hand behind his head, scratching it through the hood. He spoke with a sheepish undertone, "I…feel kind of bad." He admitted. "I mean, I bring you a rock and some string and you give me treasure. I mean…does that feel right to you?"

It is not a common procedure for the help to question if it was right for them to be paid so immensely. Obviously. But that was not the issue for Arruth'a'Snark, who straightened himself and looked towards the chest with an undeniably harder expression.

He pointed towards it. "Human, what do you see?" He asked "What do you see in that wooden box? Hmm? Is it wealth? Fortunes? A great many stones worth the price of worlds? Hmm…yes. Yes, I suppose you do. I don't fault you for it. It is a simple reflection, and one not wrong to follow. Many races would see the same. My own especially. My people see the stones as markers of their progress, such as with this pendent. Only, the Seraseno are similarly a sign of greatness that only the worthy and my family may hold. To be allowed to see, or dare even _touch_, one would be worthy of lifelong praise." He barked a laugh. "But to me, they are a bunch of pretty stones of which I have had the pleasure of holding many times in my life. They are warm and comfortable but beyond that? They do little else for me." He turned his finger from the box and towards Naruto. "If I needed to pay you in vast quantities of 'pretty stones' to assure my son's peace…then you will be assured that relieving myself of a few _baubles_ would give me no rough sleeps in the near times."

He lowered his pointed finger and turned his gaze to Naruto. His expression had not lightened up. Instead he lifted his hand to the blond, with the pendent shifting in his grip. "This is not simply about some _rock_ and _string_, human. This is about my _son_. The loss of Grendle'bor's Pendent brought a great despair to my people, beyond just their prince's demise. And through their anguish and worry, a great dishonor was passed…to the one at fault."

Naruto understood who was 'at fault.' "He couldn't have stopped Mihailoff."

"Perhaps not," the goblin was willing to acknowledge, but he didn't look proud or relieved to admit it. "But the fact remains that a century old heirloom to my family, and a symbol of progress to my people, was taken while under the watch of Brianta'a'Kabriest. And under his protection, the Pendent of Grendle'bor must never be removed from where it belongs; around the neck of a royal goblin." He paused, letting his words sink in. His kinsmen, largely ignored by himself and the human, were nodding their agreement. Either out of respect to his position or actually feeling the truth of his words, Arruth'a'Snark couldn't be certain. "It might be the simple superstitions of my people weighing down on my mind. That the idea of my son's failure not bringing him peace until the pendent was returned has left me with little sleep. It is a naïve, foolish thing to think, and I do not expect you to understand yet, one who looks so young.

"But take these words from an old father; when the time comes and you hold that small life in your hands and know that it is by your will that it may succeed and grow stronger, maybe then you will understand that there are no boundaries a father will not, and should not, _break_ to see their child live a life of prosperity and peace. Whether it is in this walk or the next."

And with that final, somewhat-defeated sentence, Arruth'a'Snark turned his eyes back to the stone and went quiet.

Naruto had, for his part, continued to sit and listen carefully to the old goblin's council. He took in his words and found an understanding to the depths of the king's desire to see his son forever in peace. Whether there was wisdom to be found by the declarations of just how far a father should be willing to go to see their child better themselves and find the epitome of their abilities, as Naruto could attest to understanding what it required to be a successful and fulfilling father in his previous life (with a few snags and poor moments in-between), there was still an undeniable passion in his voice which contrasted to the otherwise gruff-looking disposition the green-skinned individual kept.

From a father to a father, a bond of understanding was formed, even if that connection was one sided at best.

It made the blond's next words that much easier to say. "Yeah, I can't take these." He said in the most nonchalant manner he could, watching the sudden series of fearful twitches that came from the kinsmen and the pause before slow rising head from Arruth'a'Snark. Many races had difficulties dealing with individuals who were incapable of accepting gifts or rewards by offering parties. Goblins were no different. These series of movements alone did nothing to forestall Naruto's next words, but they were worth noting.

So he tried to restate his meaning, "Well, I mean, I could…but I won't." The result was even worse, then. The watching goblins twitched even more violently, taking steps away from the bench as their dark eyes looked over their lord carefully.

Speaking of whom, Arruth'a'Snark, by contrast, had a rather drowsed expression on his face. Had he used up all his angry expressions for today? Naruto could only silently hope so, but experience was telling him that this rather collected expression on the goblin's face was much, _much_ worse than any twisted expression he'd seen yet.

"Explain, human." He commanded.

_Oh yeah. He's pissed._ Naruto thought, standing from the bench and turning to stand somewhat between the king and the chest. He attempted to offer an easy smile to the armored goblin, though it came off rather sheepish instead.

"For starters?" He began, thinking quickly, "I don't have a _clue_ how I'm going to be able to get these home."

In five minutes, he could have the chest tucked and sealed away in paper.

"I don't know where I could put them in my apartment."

If sealed away, he could have carried the chest around in his _wallet_ with no one would be the wiser. And even if he didn't want to carry around a large case full of valuable stones, finding a place in his apartment to keep them would hardly have been more difficult.

"And I really don't know anyone who has the money to buy Seraseno."

Abrahel's Mall, Azazel, some houses of the Underworld that could keep secrets – Naruto knew several individuals whom held the financial ability to purchase a set of Seraseno if so desired. Maybe not enough wealth to purchase them all, but at least a few to skirt away the immense quantity he would have in his possession.

So yeah, all those wonderful little excuses against his taking the Pieces of Seraseno? A whole bunch of lies. Which kind of sucked because, for Naruto, lying was something he had very little practice or need to do in his previous life. He was an honest and open individual, qualities that did not often make for an exceptional or long lived ninja. He was kind man who held an immense sense of responsibility and made sacrifices when he was required to do so but usually at his own personal risk (he usually got an earful for doing so). Since being reborn, his need to lie and omit to details of how he was capable of doing the impressive things he could do had steadily become more frequent, though no less difficult to swallow. Especially as he began to feel closer to those who raised him from his powerless, immobile infant-stage of life. He understood the necessity – how would he even have begun to explain his previous life to someone like Koneko? – but also felt an immense guilt for doing so.

Even to someone he did not know, such as Arruth'a'Snark, _lying_ so that the goblin could keep his kingdom's treasures still left a somewhat shameful feeling in his chest.

Whom, speaking of, raised his armored self slowly from the bench. His expression was stiff and his eyes unwavering. "Truthfully?" He asked, quietly and without as much as a hint of disbelief to his tone. "Curious. Hmm, curious." He pursed his lips, "Then would you permit me a question?" He didn't wait for Naruto to respond. "Why did you take my task if you could not produce a purchaser of my treasures, hmm?" He raised an eyebrow. "Or perhaps tell me, is there a reason why you would come ill prepared to travel with such a number of Seraseno? Certainly you did not think to fit them all in your _pockets_." His eyes only narrowed a little. Not necessarily in anger, but rather it seemed as if he were looking over every detail he could on what small bits of the orange-clothed youth's face under the hood.

Like looking over a potential adversary.

Naruto being…well, _Naruto_, he understood that situations such as these could go very, _very_ bad, very, _very_ quickly. "Uh, I, um…" _lie lie lie lie lie lie,_ "I didn't actually think someone could bring me them?" _That was good, Naruto, good._ It was worded as a question, but it was a good start. And on the plus side, it was partially true; he honestly couldn't imagine someone willingly relinquishing such vast funds. Especially Pieces of Seraseno. How could he have guessed he would actually receive a call for an assignment from none other than the proprietor of the rare mineral himself? A proprietor who just so happened to be part of a race who, like many others, were still trying to catch up to the higher races in the fields of technological advancement.

The reason why his words were only partially true was because of…well, another associate of his had a very dedicated _vendetta_ towards the man who went by the name of Mihailoff. A vendetta which had pushed her forward for decades and had shared intimate details of her reasons to the blond-haired hero during chance meetings they had in years past. In fact, the ring in his pocket, with the name of _Laura,_ held very personal ties to the wronged someone. And even if a reward had not been offered, there was no question that Naruto had _every_ intention to see it returned to her. From one friend to another.

But these are concerns and situations, like so many other things, which will be resolved at a later date.

At the current moment, the blond felt that his excuse would have most likely come off as a sound, reasonable motive for doubt and a hopefully a good enough justification for his non-taking of the treasures (or at least these reasons were good enough in his mind). Arruth'a'Snark, however, was a rather inquisitive goblin in his old age. And like many goblins, he was not easily dissuaded from his thoughts or beliefs on present matters. He was stubborn, proud, and steadfast in his thoughts.

He made this fact known, "So, _human_. You were going to do my work for what you believed to be no reward?" His eyebrow rose again. "For…_nothing?"_

And there it was: that affronted touch in his tone. King Arruth'a'Snark of the goblins was feeling his honor being slighted.

This situation could become very dangerous, very quickly.

Naruto knew this well; it was not the first time when the exchanging of currencies or items of value had turned south for him. Be they provoked or not, the blond did not always get dealt a good hand with the individuals he'd had the misfortunes of meeting in the past – in this life and the last.

Sometimes he would have to fight. Sometimes he would have to apologize. And sometimes he would manage to turn a growingly tense situation into something possibly resembling the best case scenario for both parties.

He was _really_ hoping he could achieve that sort of outcome today, "No, no. I didn't say that." He quickly tried to amend, feeling a sudden and significant unease while standing near the armored king. More so than he had felt around Mihailoff, to be certain, though that may have been due to the unquestionable fact that the citizen of Oymyakon had wanted to kill him and did not debate on whether he should or not. With the goblin lord, he hadn't the mind to guess what might happen next. A man who valued their image and honor could be a dangerous thing. Especially in emotional happenings such as the present situation. "I only meant," he tried again, looking into the deep pockets of political wisdom he had garnered over his life and beckoned them forward to his lips, "that there are other wealths to be found in my life, beyond just taking some treasures I don't believe you truly wish to give away. And especially not for a task which has not amounted to my earning so much."

His counter was kind and thoughtful while additionally considerate enough to offer a way to negotiate for something, at the very least, _significantly_ less valued. A token of gratitude from a gracious king, perhaps? There was nothing Naruto desired for which he would ask the king for personally, but he was sure he could have thought up something simple to ask for in exchange for the chest full of Seraseno.

It was his plan. Bu instead, he discovered how very _naïve_ he truly was in negotiating with goblins.

"Are…are you, _human_, accusing _me_ of being unwilling to offer up my _riches_ for your services rendered?" Arruth'a'Snark asked in a snarl. His red eyes were narrowed and held a tremble that only promised the oncoming rage. "Are you claiming that – to be asked by a king to avenge his son from a foe of great strength – is not worthy of receiving equally great returns?" The hand, with Mihailoff's seal still between his fingers, slid down to the pommel of a long sword, resting there and appearing as if it was very tempted to remove it from its case. "I would consider your next words carefully, boy. Till now, I have held you in a most favorable light. I would not wish that to change over so simple a matter as you accepting your due reward."

The warning lingered past his lips, with harsh eyes now burrowing intently, as if _daring_ the boy to speak wrongly then.

He was practically _inviting_ the boy to test his honor and pride.

But for Naruto, instead of rising to the bait, as undoubtedly a much younger him would have had no quarrels doing, a new thought occurred then to stop any further action to be taken. This thought – a memory, in fact, or rather a group of similar memories – took hold of his mind and pried his awareness away from the every growingly tense situation he had unwittingly placed himself in.

His attention and thoughts went back to a time long before now, where Naruto Uzumaki reflected on how his moment with the goblin was not the first time he had to absolve a tense situation. Situations where prideful attitudes clashed and barred the ways towards peaceful communications.

He reflected for a brief moment in the cold of Russia on how, as Hokage and leader of hundreds of thousands, his duties had not always been to deal with the ideas of battle and war. In actual fact, there had been very little of these things during his time – a fact he would be most grateful for in the years to come. But instead, there happened to be more than enough battles to be fought over around a table of peers, discussing matters that would affect an incalculable number of citizens from one stretch of the world to the other. Discussions where he found himself lowering his head and swallowing his pride so that it might have been possible for progress to be made.

It was sometimes difficult, but ultimately necessary. He never once regretted it.

But this goblin was not his peer. He was not a man for whom he had spilled blood alongside with and formed a bond through the passing of time. He was not someone who understood the man under the orange hood and could connect through understood experience alone. He was not a man who enjoyed the fancy words of politics or the sweet phrases that were meant to sooth his ego. He was Arruth'a'Snark; a king of aged wisdom and integrity, who desired the open and truthful words of those around him. Something he continued to desire and be denied by his youthful compatriot, which only seemed to increase his ire the longer it continued.

In a few ways, he and Naruto were alike; responsible leaders in their own rights, hard and prideful men, but both of whom held the capacities to be kind and forgiving when needed to be.

Arruth'a'Snark did not wish to have his green ass kissed or have his ego stroked and honor kept, and Naruto was no different. Goblins were strong and hardy things, and did not take easily to having pity given to them, but it did not mean they were incapable of accepting it either. And humans could be held in similar capacities, too.

It took a moment, after seeing the dark fingers curl around the pommel of the arched sword, for Naruto to grasp this understanding.

So, with an understanding of his fault and silently criticizing himself for it, the teen decided to do something he rarely felt the need or obligation to do when speaking with someone who only needed him to finish a given task: he decided to speak the truth.

"Look," he started, hesitating only to purse his lips and swallow something in his throat, "I don't…I can't take your money. Not this much for…from a grieving father. I just, I won't." His shoulders loosened, a little. His confession came out slow, but truthful. It actually felt good. "I don't doubt you'd do anything for your son. Really, I do. Going to such lengths to bring me thousands of Seraseno and travel to the human world yourself – that takes guts."

The king did not know what his insides had to do with his actions but listened still.

"I get that you feel the need to pay me for what I've done. And really, I'm not going to sugarcoat it, this was a _hard job_." He rolled his shoulder offhandedly. _Still sore._ "But what you offer me is too much. What I did would not be worth…_any_ of that." Not even if he'd bested a man ten times the strength and ability of Mihailoff would even a _hundredth_ of the offered reward have been suitable payment. "I like the offer, really, and the fact you were willing to pay me this much…that's great!" It was not unheard of for the employers of ninjas to refrain from payment offered. Not because their task was incomplete, but rather because they thought they were…'above' paying their dues.

In fact, reflecting back to a lifetime before, Naruto recalled a specific run-in with an employer who did not feel the need to pay for the services he was provided. Services provided by a particularly fearsome ninja who went by the name of 'Zabuza Momochi.' And as an interesting side note, the employer's fate after his double cross would become something of a legend to anyone who thought to copy his actions.

The moral of the tale: _don't screw with a ninja._

Anyway, in times where Naruto had a village's wellbeing to consider, such a generous and colossal gift would not have been turned down for even a moment's consideration. He'd take the Seraseno without any ifs, ands, or buts about it. Honor and righteousness would be thrown out the window when he had to consider the hundreds of thousands he had to feed.

But in the case of filling his personal holds, which already held significant riches already, he found himself less than willing to accept such an award. And knowing what it was like to be a father and to lose a son, even if it was not by the child's passing, meant that even the slightest desire for the Pieces of Seraseno were expunged.

"But…if I took your money," he started again, voice low but still heard, "if I decided to take what I did not earn because your honor forced me to…then by _my _honor, I would not be able to look myself in the mirror again…"

* * *

Deep. Deep, but true. And for the Uzumaki, words most definitely approved of.

While the situation did not seem to lessen in tension, there was no doubt that the blond, orange-clothed youth felt significantly lighter than he had moments prior. Colorful, maybe, his words might have seemed, but they were still held more truth than he often offered his employers. Aside from his name, which he would not stray from using even with its easily identifiable nature, he could not recall a recent employer for which he held such an air of fact towards.

Perhaps Arruth'a'Snark noticed this, as well, for his features stiffened then. His hand did not leave the sword's handle but neither was he aggressively removing it from the sheath's cover. His stature was unmoving but this was not so different than before, his constant warrior's still. However, his expression was quite contrasting; stopping somewhere, seemingly, between a righteous fury and a passive calm. He seemed rather dazed. Speechless, in fact, as if the boy had decided then to grow a second head and argue about the matters of life and death – _speechless_. Whatever must have been mulling over in his head could only have been quite the conundrum, for even as his next words left his mouth, he did not seem any less troubled or calmed.

"You would put your _integrity,"_ He whispered just loud enough to be heard, though it was still hard to say whether his tone was frustrated or calm, "over my generous and _considerable_ recompense?"

Naruto himself hoped he heard the inquiry right; heard it as more of a question, rather than an accusation.

He lifted his head to stare to Arruth'a'Snark from under his hood. Their eyes met, red to blue, and again a pause was formed. A tension, maybe, but not quite as unbearable or discomforting. It felt more akin to…an understanding, but was difficult to say whether this was the case or not. Because, as Arruth'a'Snark would have no problems declaring, how much trust could be made between two strangers over such a short amount of time?

But Naruto always had this way about him; this 'way of reliance.' A character which most had no quarrels lingering towards or standing beside. And for this who were aware and knew of his natural ability to attracting others to his side, perhaps this sudden connection between the two former leaders was not as surprising at it may have seemed.

"Yes," the Uzumaki answered finally, standing as tall as he was able with his arms hanging easily at his sides. He was relaxed, "I would."

He tried to appear calm and firm, not guarded or troubled. It would do little good to seem conflicted now, not that he had reason to feel in such a way. He wanted to stand in a place of control, but not necessarily power over his associate; a stance he had only achieved through many learned years.

As Naruto saw it, he believed he chose right to deny himself the Seraseno and would stand by this decision proudly. He did not need to appear guarded, as if the decision was wrong; in fact, even with his lack of strong positioning, he felt confident in his ability to press back or even elude the goblins around him, if needed. Not because he had doubts of the green-skinned beings ability to fight, but rather understood that his abilities allowed himself several significant ways in avoiding trouble.

Not that Naruto was one to avoid a fight, of course. He simply did not feel the need to fight Arruth'a'Snark or his party. They were neither his enemies nor affiliates of those he considered enemies; they were merely a party upset. If it came to the point that avoiding a collision was necessary, he had the techniques to do so.

Fortunately, after some ten-fifteen seconds or so of waiting on the muddy earth among the coal black trees under the ebony sky, it would seem luck was on his side.

Slowly, the hand which held the pommel of the sword slackened in its grip, carefully being lifted away so as not to raise alarm or appear threatened in any way.

But instead of finding its way back to the king's side, the hand went upwards and towards the collar of the heavy armor, fingers spread out as the slip of paper, which had almost slipped the youthful human's mind entirely, and dropped it casually down. Naruto watched the movement, almost vocalizing his concern that the armor could hold the paper without dropping it, but found instead his eyes going to the other green hand of the goblin as it raised the pendent towards his neck, as well.

The hands found their ways around the metallic thread, spreading them wide and quickly lifting them overhead. It was at this moment that Naruto's eyes fell onto the old king's expression, pensive and stern like before. Whether that was a positive or not was difficult to deduce, even as the thread fell over his balding head, over the long pointed ears, and finally sat flat and unmoving around the thick neck of the goblin lord. While the thread was mostly hidden around the neck and hidden under shadow, the stone instead fell over the armor, appearing before all to see and was actually quite clear and glaring over the adorned armor set.

The foundation of Kase'kan'Ache sat once more around the neck of a king.

The kinsmen threw their fists to their chests, for once not appearing silly or foolish, but instead hardy and stern before falling to one knee and lowering their heads to the earth. At the corner of the viewing of the woods, soft shuffles of armored men could be heard with only a few flickers of light to show off that it was not some distant sounds making their way through the dark forest. Similar respects were shown for any and all goblins in attendance. Undisputed and unquestioned.

It was amusing, in a way. Dozens of cultures and species but the act of 'bowing' was still the same.

Arruth'a'Snark looked tall and opposing standing next to the wooden bench, as was expected of a goblin lord. Though he had no eyes on him to judge whatever posture he took, as his people knelt down with their heads to the ground, not daring to look up to his regal posture, he still decided to keep his appearance kingly. It was a show for the goblins bowing. A crude method to show ones worth and the importance of moment, sure, but sometimes a good show was what his people needed. Perhaps, with their heads bowed and faces to the ground, the soldiers close and off to the far edges of the woods longed to cheer and shout their approval to the return of the pendent to its rightful place on the neck of a royal. But, as was proper, silence was all that would be given, as even in excitement a sense of proper workings and attitude was required.

And so, unobstructed, the show continued, with a rather unexpected gesture made by the king goblin, himself.

As if copying the gesture of his kinsmen – but in fact, was a move made at the beginning of his introduction – Arruth'a'Snark lifted his green hand up to his chest and slammed it into the metal plating, echoing a loud sound. His hard expression did not change from the gesture but instead fond his eyes fixed on the blond.

"Human!" He called out, loud enough to be heard clearly from all sides. His kinsmen's' eyes rose to see their lord while pointed ears twitched to listen. "I do not like being in another's debt. Especially to one I have not known the company of for more than an hour," Naruto kept his surprise in check; if an hour had already passed THEN he would have to be quick to leave soon. "To have a debt on my name is to have someone hold power over me. And that is something a king should not have. For by the king, so does the debt fall to his _people_." He seemed cross with this fact. Naruto imagined another argument was soon to be underway, but then a most gracious twist occurred. That stern expression that seemed to be Arruth'a'Snark's normal turned a slightly softer scrunch of skin, with the eyes now appearing not so fierce and almost seemed to be…fond. "But there are fewer _still_ who have the will to turn down such kingly gift. I know this. I have seen it. And by your own power, you have done so. It should be an insult to my house. But instead, I find myself…proud. Content."

He held the clenched hand tightly to his breast, lowering his head only a little and tilted himself forward.

He was heavily restricted by his cold armor, but even still, the image of Arruth'a'Snark _bowing_ to the human was not missed_._

"Know this, _Naruto_ of the humans," he said the name hesitantly, trying to get the pronunciation right as if _the boy_ was the one with the odd name, "that my debt remains unpaid to you, for now! But I swear I shall have it paid! So I swear to the rock beneath my feet and the air that is in my lungs! Of equal worth to the chest, my debt will be paid to you!"

A large claim. The kinsmen at the side were wide eyed and looked like they wished to offer council against such an offer, but (surprisingly for them) knew better.

Arruth'a'Snark rose from his bend, hand moving from his chest and standing staunchly.

Their meeting and business was, to the goblin, concluded.

And all that left was Naruto, standing there and watching the king's actions quietly, his mind running through the positives of this now finished business.

On one hand, he didn't have to take the Seraseno now. That was a plus, he supposed. Sure, losing some great funds was disappointing, but understandable under the circumstances. He was not a man of material possessions and he had money plentiful, thanks to his father. Most times he took money was from jobs that were simple or not particularly personal to the contact. Or if the contact wished to stay anonymous, which were jobs few and far in-between; apparently, many forms of sentient life liked to meet the person they hired to do their little works they could not do for themselves.

Certainly made it hard to work towards, at least, breaking even monetarily.

Curse his bleeding heart.

And on the other, less-fond hand, while many would see this job as a now misused opportunity – wasting what would have been an otherwise relaxed weekend to himself and being a costly venture to travel across an ocean to begin his physically and mentally exhausting endeavors at that – he could still think that there were positives to be found.

How often did one meet royalty? Better yet, royalty of a race _beyond _the world they occupied? Or better still, royalty with _conviction?_

It was actually this last thought which came with a bubbling respect from the former Hokage which spurred his next action.

Raising his two hands to the corners of his hood, the old-young Uzumaki slipped the covering from his head, letting what little light there was in the forest to touch the sharp features of his face.

He didn't say a word, then. He didn't need to. The goblin studied him, from the highest point of his hair down to the point where the neck and the torso met. He allowed the lord a good few moments to remember his face, understand maybe the depth of what was being allowed – his face to be recognized on an assignment – than lowered his head forward for a quick bow.

Then he walked away from the bench. Towards the edges of the little known park in the little known town near the sea of Far East Russia. He never turned around to the chest, to Arruth'a'Snark, to the kinsmen awed, and ignored the goblins who stood watch from away. The town did not care for his treading, as it had not before, and once he was far enough that the number of trees and houses became scarce and unbarring, he smiled.

A fierce, _excited_ smile.

His hood was put back to its former place atop the spiky blond head of hair and a quickened pace was set eastward.

It was time to go home.

* * *

_A few minutes ago…_

It was somewhere over the Sea of Japan that Naruto's phone finally lost what little battery it had left. Because of this unfortunate set back, he'd lost track of the time between his landing on Japanese soil and leaving the Russian motherland. He could have asked someone for the time on the shuttle he'd taken between the two countries, but found himself distracted on other matters of thought. It was not until he'd settled down onto flat land and found a nearby clock that he realized that the need to _sprint_ home had been required.

It was for this reason why he was covered in a noticeable layer of sweat walking into his apartment.

The first thing he noticed was the quiet stepping inward. He focused his ears to make out any noises or sounds that might been coming from behind the door to, what was once, his bedroom. He waited only for a moment, listening to anything resembling quickened breath or the ruffling of sheets, before deducing that his entrance had not disturbed his roommate in any fashion.

He sighed, smiling a little, before shirking off the orange jacket from his shoulders, tossing it casually to the floor without worry.

The jacket sat there, unmoving like any piece of clothing would, before quietly a small 'poof' came from it and altered the orange clothing into a near perfect copy of the original Naruto.

The former-clothing-now-human-teenager lifted its head wearily from the ground. The face, hair, nose – everything about it was similar to the wearily walking teen that had thrown what had once been a jacket to the ground.

Except the copy looked, frankly, pissed.

"We are _never_ doing that again." The former jacket stated with a heated tone, lowering its head back to the carpet floors before making another, slightly louder 'poof' noise within itself and disappearing in a flicker of smoke and air.

The original, still existing Uzumaki barely regarded his the copy's words, instead deciding to throw himself to his living room couch without much care, face first into the nice, comfortable, _wonderful_ pillow which laid at its end. Just feeling his head hit the soft center was almost enough to put him out, then and there. No need to forgo ruined clothes or clean off dirtied features. He'd do that later.

But for now, he felt sore. And tired. And maybe even a little hungry. But mostly sore.

Without question, this wasn't the first time Naruto had needed to work without sleep or rest for many days. But then, he supposed this job had been more exhausting and extraneous then he originally imagined it would. The needs and requests made by the goblin king had done their work and now he needed rest, if only for a short while.

His head to the pillow. His body on the couch. He did not feel cold without his usual coverings, and with the balcony door windows covered by the thick shades, all that alit his room was the electric clock he had placed at the side of his couch.

And humorously, it was this knowledge that made the blond find what little strength he could muster to push the worn body from its laid position and look to the clock in front of his view.

It was simple curiosity to the time and how much rest he might have been able to gain.

His eyes blurred, for only a moment, getting used to the dark. The reddish glow of the digital timer was hard to make out at first.

But then, when his eyes fixed on the time –

_6:59 AM._

He realized he'd made a horrible, _horrible_ mistake.

_**Craaaaaap.**_

"_It's 7:00 AM!"_

The tiny electronic box _screamed_ to the dark, once-quiet room. Its little lights, signaling a pattern for numbers, shifted to its shouted time.

"_Any of you young men or women having trouble in your love lives? Need some thrill to your kick and kissing? Well, here's some wonderful morning advice for_ _all you struggling 'fresh couples' out in the world!_

"_Lelouch believes in the you, who believes in the L, who believes in the Fairy Tail! GET YOUR GAME ON!"_

A large groan, or perhaps even a _growl_, passed by Naruto's lips. His hand went over to the time-keeping device and slammed itself less than graciously onto its top. The voices coming from it quickly quieted, leaving the room in silence again.

For a brief, singular moment, Naruto considered the idea of passing back into an attempted, merciful sleep. His body and mind certainly had no complaints to the idea. In fact, if they could speak, they'd probably have been quite encouraging to the plan.

But then he heard his bedroom door open, the lights to the room turn on, and an innocent, pure voice speak with an all too notable pleasantness.

"Ah! Naruto-kun! Good morning!" The voice of his roommate – the former nun, now Devil, Asia Argento – spoke from behind the couch.

Naruto didn't turn his head up to greet her as heartedly as he might have usually. Instead, he decided to wave a hand up and offer up a semi-pleasant, "Morning," before returning his focus of 'glaring death' onto the small digital device.

Asia Argento, it seemed, did not notice or seem troubled by his lack of usual morning grace. She walked over to the couch, wearing a stainless white robe covering herself from her neck to her toes, and smiled down to him. "How was your weekend?" She started to ask, brushing some long blond hair from her face. "I didn't see you last night when I came home. I was a little worried, was everything okay?"

Naruto turned his head to regard the young woman then, his tired mind trying to recall information from a few days prior.

Over the weekend, Asia had been asked to spend a few days over at Rias Gremory's apartment; to familiarize herself with a few additional factors that came with her recent turning into a Devil. Flying, Naruto recalled, was the lesson for this week. The new Devil had just learned how to open her wings and had some trouble keeping them from stretching out and accidently levitating herself. Fortunately, it had only occurred in public, but when Argento girl began to float towards the ceiling one evening during dinner and cried for the next twenty minutes because of her inability to control herself, Naruto had (with maybe a few silent laughs) forwarded her troubles to Rias for the Peerage King to handle.

Asia had called a few times during his away trip to Russia, but mostly just to say hello and ask how he was. Innocent, non-suspicious things. Akeno and Rias, to his amusement, involved themselves into the blond pair's little calls, too, asking if he'd like to join them. He'd declined, for obvious reasons, and stated he was otherwise occupied with schoolwork or some other, common human troubles.

They bought it, disappointedly, but claimed to understand.

It was a shame, really. What they were doing had seemed like fun.

But anyway, it was for these reasons why Naruto had few worries of being found out about his little escapade to the northern country. And though he'd hoped to return home earlier than Asia had, he'd come up with relatively plausible excuse for why he was away the night before and was unable to meet her.

"I'm fine," Naruto told her, hiding his somewhat beaten and slightly torn shirt as best as he could, "just…went for a walk." He saw her confused expression. He laughed a little. "A _long _walk." He amended. "Just…needed to clear my head from… studying." Asia's expression turned worrying. In the month that the two had been roommates, Naruto had quickly understood that this would be the norm for the former nun; this constantly caring identity of hers. It only supported the idea that her Sacred Gear had chosen its user well. "I…just got back a little later than I'd hoped." Those last words were actually the truth, in a sideways manner. "I'm fine, Asia. Really, I am."

Asia, always trusting, did not doubt him, with her expressive features turning once more bright, joyful and undoubting. "Oh, alright then!" She stepped away from the couch, stretching her arms upwards with a yawn and relieving the tension her own sore muscles held from the weekend's efforts.

Naruto, with much agitation, sat up himself, and turned to his roommate's stretching.

Were he a pervert, Naruto might have taken a certain high appreciation to the way the robe tightly snugged against the lithe form of his roommate as she stretched. Because truthfully, pure though Asia was, her womanly air and very compelling figure would undoubtedly attract many men as the years went by. Though Naruto was certain it was unintentional, going by the way Asia was by nature, he couldn't help but wonder curiously on how compelling the former nun might one day be if she decided to fully accept her Devilish abilities and natural beauty.

_Men will eat out of the palm of her hands,_ he thought amusedly, raising himself from the sofa and similarly stretching alongside her.

Still sore. And tired. And hungry.

But the hunger could at least be settled now.

"Alright!" He shouted with forced energy, stepping around the couch and moving besides the blonde, "_I'm_ gonna go make us some breakfast," his statement was punctuated with a hand being placed on Asia's robed shoulder, twisting her around, "and _you_ are to go get ready for school, young lady!" His tone was a playful like a parent's, getting a sweet giggle from the girl as he nudged her towards the bathroom. She fought him for a moment, playing, and he laughed something hearty in response. "_Go-o-o-o!_ I'll have something ready when you get out."

He was sure he smelled the worst between the two of them; two-and-a-half days in the tundra tended to not make you come out smelling like an Angel, but if Asia noticed his less than hygienic situation, she didn't say anything.

She agreed to his playful demands, walking off to the shower, more than happy to ready herself to be the best student she could be for another day at Kuoh Academy.

Naruto watched her, smiling and keeping an air of awake before the door closed and he fell into a slouch.

He tried and failed to hold back a deep yawn, covering his mouth with his hand. But even this action required effort he would have rather not used; the discomfort in his arm was not conveyed through the smooth, uninjured skin or muscle, but the fatigue was not to be ignored.

He groaned out a laugh, finding humor in his rarely found weariness before moving away from the kitchen and couch towards the balcony doors. He slipped his fingers through the door handle and slipped himself out onto the balcony.

The first thing he noticed was how pleasant the cool spring breeze felt to his skin. The sun rising over the clouds bathed his apartment and area around in a stunning reddish hue. Looking over the edge to the grass below, the grasses were covered in smooth layers of dew and the birds were already chirping their songs. He saw men and women jogging, aged from the very old to the very young, but each seemed content to run their paths with fervor.

It was a view that brought a smile to his face.

Happy. Pleasant. Peaceful.

With a passing grace, the hard feelings and worn tensions of the weekend's hardships were being melted away.

"I think," Naruto Uzumaki began, after a few moments of enjoyed silence, "I think it is going to be a _really_ nice day today."

He smiled a little more, enjoying his peace for a few seconds more before turning to get to work in the kitchen.

He wondered if Asia liked bagels…

* * *

**And DONE!**

**WOW!**

**Goblin kings, mass murderers, magical potions, several world-making history lessons – those are surprisingly difficult to write!**

**But, anyway, hoped you found the read a pleasant one! I know I enjoyed writing it!**

**PHEW!**

**Alright, so, it's been almost ten months since my last chapter – WOO! Well, I'm sorry for that. And safe to say, I won't be doing another chapter of this length for a LONG time!**

**More regular intervals, now. I just wanted to show that I can world build and expand this FF beyond just basic story copying (a few people commented that I needed to show I can bring this story beyond just Kuoh, if I wanted to improve as a writer beyond just the safety of DxD's regular story).**

**I am going to touch on regular story material, such as Riser's arc, before moving slowly away towards more originally written storylines.**

**Before, eventually, reaching the grand finale.**

**But I won't give out any spoilers.**

**Anyway, to say sorry for the long awaited update and the lengthy chapter (****is a long chapter a bad thing? Tell me in a review, if you're displeased with lengthy works****) and to show that I have a plan for my updates, here is a small preview of what to expect soon.**

…

…

…

_**Next Time on The Beast of Gremory:**_

_**A day in the life of Naruto. What enjoyments are there to be found?**_

_**And what's this? Souna Shitori calls out to Rias? But what for?**_

_**And maybe a hard lesson can be learned from both parties when Naruto calls for a game to be played –**_

_**A game involving Two Bells!**_

_**Find out what happens next in the first chapter of Book 2:**_

'_**HE TENDS HIS FLOCK LIKE A SHEPHERD!**__**'**_

**SEE YOU SOON!**


	8. He Tends His Flock like a Shepherd

**Alright, so…I understand the last chapter wasn't 'universally accepted.' I knew that would happen. I was trying to show that I could take the story further than just the pure DxD plot but it seemed to have been met with mixed reviews. It was a tough bullet to bite but a ****necessary**** one for the story progression.**

**I assure you, though; the Chapter Seven was NOT a filler (seriously, WHY would I make a fifty-seven-thousand-word filler?! I'm not THAT crazy!).**

**Nothing I put in that chapter was, by my grand scheme for the story, unnecessary, even if it might have seemed that way to some. Every character, item, or connection holds importance for later chapters. I know this is a Fanfiction, meaning we want our story now and done. But I'm setting things up later down the road. More out of practice so that, when my own novel is finished, I can say I've had practice setting things up for later chapters or books. The same goes for the Beast of Gremory; ten-twenty-thirty chapters down the road, you might just like the foreshadowing you got from the last chapter.**

**Now, for those who liked it, excellent. I am glad you were accepting of the world-building I was attempting to do. If not, but are willing to give me a chance to see my work, HOPEFULLY, improve, then here's the proof I can still move forward.**

**This chapter is returning to more of the ****central plot****.**

**With fun.**

**And less detail many of you will want to ignore.**

**I think.**

**I might have failed epically on the detail part, come to think of it.**

**This IS a ****thirty-thousand-word**** chapter, after all. I was wanting it to be ****ten-thousand****, but I got carried away.**

**Sorry about that.**

**Anyway, I do hope this makes up for the last chapter's great-not great fandom review. I originally wanted to post this chapter next week for Halloween, as a treat, but I haven't seen many posting of chapters lately for stories I've been reading, so figured I should offer an early treat to my dedicated fans!**

**HERE WE GO!**

* * *

CHAPTER ONE: HE TENDS HIS FLOCK LIKE A SHEPHERD

_Naruto's Apartment, Japan, 7:53 AM_

A comfortable stream of liquid fell over Naruto's face as he stood under the showerhead. Eyes closed and features relaxed, the naked blond felt oddly comforted as the water fell down his brow, onto his chest, and then dripping down his legs onto to the tiled floors. The warmth of the water was soothing aches and pains he had not realized where there and the stench that had accumulated through his searching of a nice portion of 'the motherland' was now being washed thankfully away. His once growing sense of weary seemed to stall while his head dipped further into the water, feeling something alike to a small reprieve or second wind.

For Naruto, the time in the shower would have best been described as the 'calm' in what would undoubtedly be a long, drawling 'storm' of a day. School work and common teenage obligations, things he didn't often look forward to even on the best of days, would undoubtedly pester and press what small acceptance he held towards the already heavily barring environment.

And yet, he had his reasons for going.

Despite the less than excitable materials and lessons offered, he couldn't say that there weren't incentives for his routine partaking in the act of being a 'normal high school student.' This relatively peaceful teenage lifestyle was certainly a contrast to how he once spent his previous-earlier years of life. Where once he had to worry about a knife being thrust into his heart, now the worst fear Naruto had was forgetting to study for an exam (though he still kept his guard out of old habits). And perhaps he could even admit that it was somewhat 'charming' to see a newer generation of children study and learn and grow into a field of their choosing.

To see teenagers laugh, shout, exercise and commune with one another. Without a backward reason like 'trying-to-build-up-their-teamwork-to-ready-themselves-for-a-harsh-life-as-a-ninja-or-discover-the-weaknesses-of-a-comrade-so-that-you-may-use-it-against-them-should-they-go-rogue-and-betray-their-village-for-personal-reasons.'

Or of similar motives.

It was peaceful in this new world. Or relatively, at least. Naruto could understand and appreciate this fact, thinking back to the peace he himself had helped create and organize.

He felt older in those moments. Very old.

But barring older memories which crept on him at inopportune times, unwavering peace and happily growing children were hardly the main reasons for Naruto's staying at Kuoh. They were positives, sure, but hardly enough to keep a wandering and curious man like Naruto in one place for too long (at least without obligation). Though it might have been a motivation that bordered on the overly simple or even downright childish, it was an unquestionable declaration to say that, no matter how nice and simple his new way of life was, were it not for Naruto Uzumaki's friends – Gasper, Koneko, Kiba, Souna, Akeno, Rias, and now Asia – the ninja hero would have felt no reason to stay in such a place longer than he had to.

It was the main reason why he decided to venture into the deemed 'Human World' in the first place. To look out for his 'aunt' and her Peerage during their first long outing from the Underworld. To ensure her safety and offer aid whenever she may need it. After all, even with the knowledge that Rias was a growing and capable woman that showed true promise as both a leader and a future head of the Gremory Household, she was still very young and her Peerage…well, let's just say that she did not choose the easiest group of young adults to form a bond with.

The Peerage King's experience with troubled children was simple and limited. And although Rias' distinctive maturity benefited her when it came to controlling or assisting those around her, it was obvious to anyone that she was still learning.

A Devil, she might have been. But a teenager, still, in body and heart.

Naruto helped whenever he could or was asked. Offering advice which she'd grown to appreciate immensely, though had once or twice commented on where his wisdom came from – playfully, of course. But if truth were to be told, prior to nearly a month before, when Asia Argento had seeming been unceremoniously made into his roommate, Naruto's interactions with Rias' Peerage had been somewhat distant of late.

The reasons weren't harsh or ill-intended. The Uzumaki simply did not interact with Rias or her Peerage as often as he had in the Underworld or at the beginning of his journey to Japan. The motive for was mostly based off of the idea that the red-haired Devil needed to feel secure in her abilities and that mayhaps his presence would have done little good in forwarding her own desire to better herself.

With Naruto around, Rias felt safe in that whatever decisions she made because if they were wrong or missed some crucial piece of information to them, her nephew would have been more than happy to point it out to her. He was the buffer to her, in that way. And sure, having a guide or second mind to any leader was not a bad thing to have, but sometimes it seemed as if Rias had become too complacent to Naruto's own knowledgeable side-advice. The human teen understood that, if the Peerage King became too comfortable with being corrected on her mistakes, then she might fall short in actually thinking up the consequences prior to her taking action.

He did not mean to sell her short, and maybe Rias would have grown just fine even with him by her side. Maybe he should have had faith in her; the Lady Gremory had been vocal in the past on his absence from her Peerage's life. He often told her he was busy or otherwise occupied, and she had steadily begun to doubt the authenticity of his reasons for being absent.

Prior to Asia's joining, the few times Naruto routinely saw need to interact with the Gremory Peerage were only when he came to check on Gasper Vladi's wellbeing; aid Rias in her Peerage contractors on rare nights; or very rarely help in the apprehending of a Stray Devil – which measured to only three times, although that number was still considerable in itself.

Otherwise, the blond hero was largely vacant in the Gremory Devils' lives.

But, as said before, this was only the case until Asia Argento joined.

It took some time for Naruto to admit that the young miss Argento's being placed into his apartment-home had not been done so casually. That there was some thought placed into where Asia would stay had not occurred to him until sometime later. Kiba was more than capable of holding a young woman in his apartment, Akeno and Rias had larger homesteads than Naruto, and even Koneko lived in a relatively comfortable space which, along with being closer to Rias and Akeno's place, held a more feminine touch to it. When Naruto first took the Priest Girl home with him, it had been under the pretense that, once measures were made, she would then be moved to a more hospitable location, owned and controlled by the Gremory estate.

When no such actions were taken, even after the first two weeks of their rooming together, Naruto began to feel somewhat…tricked. Especially when Rias began to routinely send over vast amounts of clothes, food stuffs, feminine products (of which Naruto hadn't the mind to understand their uses or what they were needed for), and brush off any and all questions pertaining to Asia's relocation that the blond inquired about. In the most casual and nonchalant way she could.

So now, Naruto was playing 'escort' for the newest member of the Gremory house. Between frequent club meetings, Peerage orders, and now Devil lessons, Naruto had begun to spend more time with the Peerage than he had in the last six months.

His plan of isolating himself had been effectively thwarted.

All as Rias Gremory had undoubtedly planned.

He would have laughed had Naruto not been the one to be so effectively _played_.

_Knock knock knock! _

"Naruto-kun! _Naruto-kun!" _

_Knock knock knock knock knock!_

Said boy opened his eyes, turning his ear to the origin of the noise.

"You must hurry, Naruto-kun!" A muffled girl's soft shout came through the doorway, sounding worried. "School will be starting soon! We have to leave!"

Naruto stared to where the noise was coming from. Though he appreciated his roommate's concern, and silently wondered how long he'd stayed in the shower to raise such worries, he was still confident in that the two of them would make it to the academy with time to spare.

He had a reputation of only _near_-tardiness, after all.

With a quick lift of his arms overhead, a silent appreciation of the loud snapping sounds that came from his tight muscles, the blond in the shower gave a loud shout; "Alright, alright. Just hold on!" His hand casually turning the shower off and quieting the stream of the water. "Just give me a second. I'm getting out, I'm getting out…"

* * *

_A half a mile from Kuoh Academy, sidewalk, 8:43 AM_

It was not by mere chance that the young man, Issei Hyoudou, known infamously as the most perverted student of Kuoh Academy, had decided to grace the pair of blond teens on their way to the academic facility.

In fact, through the last month, his morning meetings had become somewhat of an expected routine.

Though he acted, at first, as if it were the work by some good luck or fortune that he would run into the pair, meeting some mile or so from their destination in the early mornings, Issei quickly gave up the ruse to point out that he indeed enjoyed meeting Asia whenever he could, much to said girl's delight. The brown-haired youth would meet with the former nun, with large smiles and kind greetings, and then walk with one another side-by-side to class.

Today was no different in that regard. They were smiling, talking about their weekends, and honestly seemed to be enjoying one another's presence without issue or discomfort. By that regard, they seemed as if like two great friends, enjoying a warm morning's walk to school. Both were dressed in their uniforms, comfortably so, held their school packs on their person in some fashion – Asia, with a handheld school bag, and Issei, a backpack – and seemed unhindered by the usual Monday blues which came with school life.

In that way, Naruto was pleased with their enthusiasm, even as he walked some twenty-thirty steps behind the two, watching the pair silently.

As Issei had his way of conversing with Asia in the mornings, Naruto had his ways about watching the two teens quietly from the back. Partly out of amusement, but maybe also out of some sense of instinct or protective consciousness. He was friends with Asia, as the month as roommates had no doubt drawn the two closer together, and was protective of her as a result. She was additionally naïve and innocent to whatever the world held, which only time and wisdom would help ease. And although Naruto largely doubted the idea that Issei Hyoudou had any sort of notions that would have been unacceptable for the Devil girl, at least on the basis of legality, the former ninja still felt something personal in the way ensuring her safety regardless.

So, as this morning was like many mornings before, Issei met with Asia, the two shared in conversation on their walks to the academy, and Naruto silently watched the two from behind.

It was a pattern followed, but still a good morning.

* * *

_Kuoh Academy, Main School Building, Homeroom 139, 9:04 AM_

Naruto sat quietly towards the back of the classroom, stifling his third tired yawn since arriving and looking down the lanes of desks to the students who were either making themselves comfortable before their teacher arrived or communing with one another on things that were of little personal concern to him.

He looked quite bored sitting in the back. Not that he was, of course. His eyes looked tired but he did seem to be watchful in his own way.

Issei was sitting by the front, leaning next to a window as his two school friends, who boasted equal levels of perversion to his own, were shouting about some manner of video or show which caught their eyes over the weekend. They seemed excited by the prospect of watching it again, if going by how their hands made groping gestures and their faces lit up with joy. This received some manners of confused or disgusted looks from the class around, who quietly commented on the misfortune of being placed in a homeroom with such perverts (one of the nicer nouns used to describe them), but if Issei and his friends noticed, they did not say anything in response.

But the three only caught his attention for a moment.

Asia, on the other hand, held his attention for a bit longer.

The first day of Asia's venture to the academy just so happened to also be the first day Asia had been placed into Naruto and Issei's homeroom. As coincidences went, this wasn't as exceptional as Issei and Asia being aware of the other had been, or them trying to be killed by the same Fallen Angel. There were only a limited number of classes to be found which could hold second-year high school students, but the surprise was still there. Whether this was by Rias' doing or not, Naruto could not say. But it still surprised the Uzumaki with her introduction to his class. And for Issei…well, he was certainly one of the more vocal of the male recipients whom acknowledged the young lady, and expressed immense gratitude to whatever god would listen on their luck to having such a wonderfully cute and polite individual placed in their homeroom.

Presently, Asia sat at her desk among other pretty young teens, discussing whatever came to their minds with a polite enthuse. The new Bishop had grown rather close with the class's inhabitants and had done so quite easily. Her personality was charming, respectful, and held no signs of deception or alternative motive to it. Her nun background was serving her well amongst the similarly aged group of teen girls and looked content to just talk about this or that or whatever else her friends were discussing.

All in all, Asia was happy.

Naruto muffled another yawn, his hand going up and culling whatever sound might have tried to escape. He would attempt – for maybe another moment or two – to rest his eyes for what length of time remained before he would inevitably have to feign interest in whatever his class's professor decided to teach the impressionable youths of Homeroom 139.

* * *

_Behind the Main School Building, Track Field, 10:23 AM_

Just off to the side from the center of the school's large and well-kept grass area, an equally neat track could be found. Track, as in, a fine tarred running space. As in, with large stands for large crowds, a wide open space, some areas for other sports and food stands – the usual stuff. It was there for the obvious sports specialized by the student body and used for events that might have been hosted.

Now, as was the norm for most of the school year, the area around it was often used only in the after school hours of the day. As mentioned, it was used for sports (duh) and a few other events that needed the open spaces but was used for little else otherwise. Sure, maybe you'd find a student finding solace in a book on their lunch break or see a couple friends lying on the clean-cut grasses, but truthfully, unlike the rest of the educational facility, Kuoh's track field was often barren of people during the day.

Of course, this is mentioned now because, contrast to the usual, there was now a _significant_ number standing on the field.

Dressed in provided athletic attire – organized for convenience by gender and sized to each individual – a large grouping of students stood around in a large circle by the grassed center of the track. They were looking towards the middle of their makeshift ring, with several giving loud shouts of encouragements alongside wild pumping of arms, and having an obvious delight in whatever it was which held their focus.

From the main building, it seemed as if something interesting was taking place. But with the thick grouping of schoolboys and girls of a few different ages – the three high school ages, to be exact – blocking whatever viewings that could be seen from whomever was outside the large circled cluster, it seemed the only clue of what was happening would be through whatever excited cries were heard. The sounds were muffled through the windows, with students only making out stifled screams. But through a few opened class windows and the building's back doors, the noise and cries were quite simple to make out.

"NARUTO!" One of the shouters screamed. "COME ON! KEEP GOING!"

"YOU CAN DO IT! DON'T GIVE UP!"

"THINK OF YOUR MALE PRIDE, MAN! YOU CAN'T LOSE TO-TO-_HERRRR!_"

_Ugh, shut up._ A tense, struggling and red-faced blond thought as his arms lowered his tense form once more to the grass-covered earth. He might have expressed his opinions verbally were it not for his open mouth struggling to take in deep breaths of air. Beads of sweat passed down his neck and brow to the shadowed ground and his fingers started to twitch under his weight as he continued his efforts to perform yet another demanding pushup.

"NARUTO! NARUTO!" A group of boys, and a few girls, started chanting. "NARUTO! NARUTO! NARUTO! NARUTO!"

The boy who was being chanted for only shook his head as he lowered himself for another, only encouraging louder screams and shouts of reassurance to come from his peers.

Shifting his gaze away from the earth after pushing himself back up, if only to get his bright and now weary eyes off the wet, sweated grass for a moment, and looked to the person beside him in a similar look of duress. The only other individual in the circle of onlookers who'd managed to keep pace and still hold themselves up against the blond second-year.

"DON'T LET THE BOYS WIN!"

"BEAT HIM! HE LOOKS LIKE SHIT!"

"KICK HIS ASS, KONEKO-CHAN!"

Koneko – or rather, Koneko Toujou – only pursed her lips tightly at her enthralled fans' cheering; keeping herself quiet and focused as she pressed herself up for another lift up from the ground. Her silver hair slid over her face, mostly covering up the strained expression she wore. But laying beside her, Naruto could see her entirely.

She was tired, which was no surprise; Koneko was perhaps the strongest member of the Gremory's Peerage. But even still, going on eight minutes of consistent, quick pushups (under an admittedly hot spring day) was not doing either the Rook or the former Hokage any favors.

The reason for their duress, and why they were continuing this showing of strength that certainly none of the other students had even a lasted a tenth of since beginning, were for reasons actually quite simple. Kuoh Academy, though primarily a school famous for its excellent academics, was also a proud facility of a renowned athletic program. Whether a student was in a sports affiliation, club or team, the school nonetheless expected a credible level of fitness from all of its pupils. And thus these semesterly events with the several grades were made as a partial event to show the physical excellence of each individual. As well as provide an outlet of competition to all levels.

Naruto had performed admirably in the previous Kuoh Academy Athletic Events he'd otherwise been forced to participate in since his enrollment. Unsurprisingly to those who knew him, he was the top of the class in these occasions, but only kept to a reasonable level of ability shown. He did not see a reason to run a hundred-yard dash in under a second, nor feel the need to perform pushups with a singer digit. No, no; he understood the unfairness his strength and agility would put him in to his peers – a sentiment which Rias encouraged her Peerage to follow when he told her of his capable, but by no means astounding, performances.

But still, maybe it was his pride which kept him from allowing those around him to best any of his scores.

He was old in mind. Not in heart. And these 'whippersnappers' could learn a thing or two about there 'always being bigger fish.'

To an admittance of truth, Naruto looked forward to these little events in a small way. His old academy days had events similar to these to test the average ninja-in-training's aptitude and physicality. Barring any sort of hand-to-hand combat or moments which dealt with sharpened tools or weapons, Kuoh's little physicals were a nice way to relax and get out of the classroom for a while. The days when the events were held were usually warm and comfortable and there was nothing like putting on a good, light bit of exercise to keep the mind active.

But now, to Naruto's quiet resentment, he could not stop himself from silently admitting that the 'relax' of these events was now sorely missing.

As mentioned, the teenaged blond had performed adequately in the years he had performed in these events – never going overboard or beyond the need to show that he was of a solid physique. But never in the last three years had he performed these events with anyone from Rias' Peerage. Circumstances had, coincidently, separated the academy's Occult Research Club and the former ninja from ever competing with one another. With Asia in his class, he naturally figured he would compete with the former nun. Who, though a Devil now, still had ways to go before achieving a modicum of strength that would have put her above her human peers. But the human teen failed to consider the idea that _another_ of his friends from the Underworld would join him.

And as it turned out, that friend just so happened to be Koneko – Kuoh Academy's proclaimed 'Mascot.'

Oh, what a terrible occurrence _that_ turned out to be…

"PUSH, NARUTO! PUSH PUSH PUSH PUSH PUSH-"

"HE'S LOSING IT! HE'S LOSING IT – KEEP IT UP, GIRL!"

"MALE PRIDE, MAN! **MALE! **_**PRIIIIIIIIDE!**_"

"KONEKO KONEKO, SHE'S THE BEST! SHE'LL BEAT YOU DOWN JUST LIKE THE REST!"

Naruto watched as Koneko bit her lower lip; maybe out of some attempt to keep herself focused or maybe so she didn't snap at those surrounding them.

She was not one to appreciate the limelight. And not being able to do her usual business of simply glaring towards whomever showed her excessive amounts of attention to shut them up was now waring down on her patience as well as her pride.

Koneko attempted to block out the noises around her and focus on her pushups, not wanting to break stride for fear that she would lose then. For that is what it was, then, for Naruto and Koneko: a contest. The first physical event of this semesterly occurrence – a pushup counting experience – had swiftly turned into a competition between the two. Egged on only further by those several classes worth of students surrounding them.

Out of everyone in Rias' small Peerage, there was no one more proud of their physical capabilities, nor more adamant in proving their worth to those around her, than Koneko Toujou. Yuuto Kiba was chivalrous and kind but not the most competitive of youths, preferring more to stay in the back of events which transpired that did not require his immediate touch. Akeno Himejima was soft and, at times, eccentric to a fault, but was not often one for competitions. And while Rias could be a competitive woman, Naruto doubted she would not have yielded at some point in this event, if only to not go overboard on her showing of strength and to keep to the status quo that she and her party were as human as everyone else.

But Koneko held no such reserves. She would continue to push until her opponent yielded or her arms gave way.

The Rook of Gremory was a _very_ competitive woman.

And, as fate would have it, so was Naruto.

"SECOND WIND! HE'S GOT HIS SECOND WIND!"

"Nah, nah. He's done, HE'S DONE!"

In the past, Naruto would have appreciated the encouragement (and even lack-thereof) from his peers. He didn't receive a lot of praise or acknowledgment as a child in his prior life (biggest understatement of his past life). But now, panting and sweating, all he could do was put about 90% of his focus towards pushing himself to perform another pushup and another 10% towards not telling the masses to collectively _f&amp;%k off_.

And from what he could tell from strayed glances, Koneko seemed to be holding very similar thoughts.

As happenstance would have it, it seemed only then that the ashen-haired girl would notice that her competitor was eyeing her from the side. Her head lifted only a margin more so that her eyes would be able to meet Naruto's for a moment, neither making a gesture of overly acknowledging him in an open way nor fully denouncing his presence entirely.

But this was not unusual for her. The Rook was by definition a stoic child. Unquestionably, the exhaustion of this grueling task was draining whatever energy she could have used to recognize him in even a semi-sort of way. Even to receive a small glance was something remarkable. Koneko was seen by many as unfeeling, apathetic and even harsh at times but that didn't mean she was, well, _mean_. Her…'history' with trusting others made her the way she was, though the details need not be delved into yet. She was just a closed-off child who had (serious) trust issues.

But even still, Naruto recognized the girl's value in the friends she'd made. If Koneko Toujou saw you as a friend, then you would have her friendship for life.

"TEACHER, TEACHER! I THINK HER BACK ISN'T STRAIGHT! SHE'S CHEATING!"

"OH, DON'T BE AN ASS!"

And speaking of friendship, Naruto's eyes strayed away for a moment towards the crowds around, dipping himself in-between for another pushup, before his eyes found another blond of the second-year high school class at the edges of their crowd-circle.

"Uh, uhm. Uh, g-go Narut…K-Koneko-chan, you can…um, Naruto-kun, you're doing…ohhh…"

Poor Asia. So uncertain for whom to cheer for. And certainly, Naruto and she were roommates and had developed something of a relaxing bond with the other. But in the times where Asia took to her lessons in being a Devil, she and the Peerage had grown quite close in the private times together. And in only a month! Whether it was by Rias' strong leadership, Akeno's motherly nature, Kiba's nice guy attitude, Koneko's willingness to help those around in her own quite way or maybe some combination of the sorts, there was still no question that Asia's ability and easily to connect-with personality had done wonders for her easing into her new life.

Naruto huffed out a laugh at the nun's uncertainty before dipping back down to the earth and lifting himself again; returning his eyes to Koneko, whom never stopped in her own staring, and offered a strained smile.

"Hey," he managed to huff out, dropping for another, "you maybe," another drop down, "wanna just," another drop, "call this," another, "a draw?"

He watched the girl carefully as she lifted herself up. Her eyes were narrowed and weary, her skin laced with sweat, and the way her body shook only spoke of the sheer drive which kept her going.

Her lips trembled; her breath was certainly warmer than normal, misting the grass below her; and every gasp for air was quick and deep.

And for a moment – a foolish, naïve moment – Naruto actually believed Koneko would take up his proposal.

But then her face contorted. Her expression hardened and a resolve, not their before, arose in her eyes. Her fingers pressed harder into the grass, her back straightened and even the sweat on her brow seemed to almost evaporate. Her lips which once quivered went firm and stiff, and her eyes - _hard_ and _provoking_.

"Not a chance." Was all she said. Then she fell for another, more controlled pushup, and picked up her pace.

The challenge-given was all too clear.

Naruto held back his grown with a tired laugh, not bothering to shake his head to the stubborn girl. He thought then to, maybe, break off from this childish attempt to provoke him onwards and conserve what strength he had left for the rest of the day ahead. The events ahead would only be more difficult now, and what classes remained after wouldn't be with professors he could slouch and take an easy time with.

It would have been the wiser – the more _adult_ – thing to do. To just let the young girl have her victory and relax for the day ahead…

…

…

…

…

…But, then again, his body wasn't exactly an _adult's_, now was it?

He dropped back to the sweated earth, smiling good-naturedly, and followed the younger girl in the exercise.

She had her pride as did he.

And all the while, the crowds cheered.

* * *

_Kuoh Academy, Old School Building, 11:47 AM_

The scholastic exercise events were not as exciting after the initial contest between Koneko and Naruto.

Partly due to both abnormally strong teenagers being understandably fatigued from the event and partly due to both lacking any further urge thereafter to prove their individual worth.

Both were worn and sore and seen at times to lean off the other for stability. The two did not seem to be particularly interested in whatever came next and instead seemed more interested in catching their breath and working to not ache further in any way imaginable. They allowed their fellow classmates to strive in whatever came after while the two teens performed casually from behind.

Their teachers, mercifully, did not hold their lack of efforts after against the two.

Small kindnesses, it seemed.

Afterwards, when the day's athletic proceedings were concluded and the classes separated for lunch, Naruto decided against following his peers to the cafeteria and instead wandered away from the Main School building. Instead his thoughts went towards finding some warm bed of soft, un-sweated grass and gain some modicum of rest before classes were to resume.

Maybe even with a small visit to see Gasper, whom he had to forego visiting over the weekend while on business in Russia (there was some thousands of kilometers between Oymyakon and Kuoh. It wasn't exactly easy to jump back and forth between the two locales).

He had in his pocket a bag full of soft treats for emergency situations such as these, and knew he'd have to apologize for not going to see the little vampire. Cooped up in a cold, hardwood coffin for an entire weekend? Rias might have brought Gasper food regularly but it wasn't as if she had the time to commune with the boy as often as she would have liked. She was a busy young Devil. Which meant, since the rest of the Peerage was heavily restricted from conversing with the high-strung fainthearted Bishop by order of Sirzechs Lucifer himself, it was up to Naruto to break the rules a little and visit the young bloodsucker whenever he could.

_Those who abandon their friends,_ after all.

Anyway, as coincidences would have it, it was these thoughts about the young half-breed which brought Naruto to the Old School Building's kitchen in the first place.

First, he thought about the Old School Building. Which then brought up thoughts about Rias and her Peerage whom hosted their club frequently in the spacious building. Which then happened to remind the human about the comfortably dim-lit room which often held said club's meetings. A room which he assumed would be comfortably vacant of any disturbances or club members at that point in the day. A room which, as his wearied mind would have it, recalled a long couch. A couch on which he spent a short night's rest on before being rudely awaken to a request to save a lady of the church.

And in his tired mind, Naruto's recollection of the couch was now accompanied with a shining, brilliant, golden shine around it's leathery surface. Complete with a resounding, perfectly vocalized choir singing something which vaguely sounded along the lines of 'please come sleep on the couch / this lovely, lovely couch/ do it do it do it DO IT.'

As Naruto walked into the renovated school building, he admitted that his 'mental choir' was making a convincing argument.

A _very_ convincing argument.

And besides, he was on break. Twenty-minute nap, twenty minutes with Gasper – he'd be back in time for class before the first bell rang.

Two birds, one stone, and with time to spare. He'd call it genius if it wasn't a common occurrence for his 'Uzumaki original plans' to go wrong in minor to extreme ways.

Today would be no different.

He made his way through the building's entrance and to the stairways leading towards the upper floors. Down the hall to the east wing on the second level, past some doors used now primarily for storage or other small uses, aiming for the fifth door to the right. It was the room he had familiarized himself with over the years. And even with the limited light of the hall – the decorative lights kept dim in the day and the shades pulled down on the windows to block out the sun – he knew his way without issue.

Perhaps it was because of his tired state, or maybe it was because he allowed his guard to be down and thus made unaware, but as he passed the fourth door on his right, he quietly missed the light shining under.

It was only after taking a few steps ahead, and just reached out for the club room's door handle, when the sound of a door's opening echoed to his side. A light beamed out into the dark hallway, illuminating it somewhat, and showing off the making of a feminine shadow.

The shadow shifted, a footstep was heard, and then the lean figure of a rather buxom young women stepped out curiously into the hallway.

"Naruto-kun?" The voice of Akeno Himejima rang out into the otherwise quiet hallway, catching the attention of the youthful blond as his fingers only ever so lightly brushed the door's brass handle.

Caught by surprise, Naruto straightened himself and turned his head to the voice's owner. In contrast to her usual appearance, Akeno's expression was not that of smirking enjoyment or hidden delight, but rather surprised and curious. She wore an apron over her school uniform, which had a few stains from what Naruto could only guess were some sorts of bakery batter, and had just a bit more of her hair pulled back by the orange ribbon she usually wore to keep her eyes cleared from the lengthy ebony strands.

She was cooking, Naruto assumed. The room besides the clubroom was a kitchen. The blond did not frequent it often, as the others had declared it as Akeno's territory, and was rather surprised by her appearance.

His facial expressions conveyed that surprise as he blinked owlishly towards her. "A-Akeno-chan," he stuttered. "Hi."

"Ah, hello." Akeno returned, her face turning from surprised to generally pleased and smiling. "What are you doing here? Buchou is still in class, I'm afraid."

"Ah, yeah." Naruto was aware of this. Rias made a bit of a show at the beginning of their year, expressing her desire to perhaps change her schedule so that she might be able to eat with her 'favorite cousin.' She didn't get her way, to her disappointment, and was in a somewhat foul mood for a week after. "I was just, um, going to…" He tried to think of something else besides 'I wanted to sleep on your couch' but even he had too much pride to admit to something like that.

Akeno smiled and gave a light laugh, amused by the boy's obvious uncertainty on the subject of his actions. "Oh my, you weren't by chance coming to see me, were you?"

"Ah, no," the blond answered without much thought, "I actually didn't even know you were here." Akeno never mentioned her lunch hour. Naruto only assumed it must have been with Rias, like years prior. Since the school year began, he'd never even seen the ebony-haired beauty, nor felt the obligation to ask her when she held her lunch period.

As mentioned, he hadn't been the most attentive friend to Rias' little Peerage. A fact being made very clear of late.

Akeno, for her part, did not try to hold back her enjoyment of the boy's blunt words. "Oh, Naruto!" She cried out in an acted bit of sadness. "How could you be so uncouth to a girl? So _uncivilized?_" She sniffled and dabbed a small finger to her eyes, wiping away crocodile tears. "_You barbarian!_" This was not the first time Akeno had taken such an exaggerative attitude in her innocent poking of the boy. Nor would it be the last time she would. She found it entertaining to see how those around her reacted to her over-the-top persona of a teenage girl.

The reactions usually left her with laughter.

And above all, her favorite target to her act was the boy standing before her.

Naruto, for his part, was too exhausted to react so loudly. Instead, he held back a yawn with his hand and gave a weak, "Sorry, sorry. My bad."

"Oh! _Well_, it certainly doesn't_ sound_ like your apologetic in the least!" She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look displeased. "Oh dear! If only Buchou were here to see her precious nephew acting in such a way! To his dear friend, no less! Oh, it would break her heart, it would!"

"Ah," Naruto started again, a little more awake and aware as his hand reached back to scratch his head, hesitantly, "I'm…_really _sorry?"

The teen's words only seemed to amuse the young Akeno further, who placed a single digit to her lips and seemed to deeply consider his 'apology.' "Hmm…well, I suppose I _may_ be able to forgive you…" she began, before leaning forward and offering a practically _sinful_ smile to the human boy. "_If_ you were to help me in the kitchen…for a little while…I would _really appreciate_ the company…"

Her tone was suggestive and enticing to the ear. And coupled with her now hanging endowments, which were certainly eye-catching to almost every male's view, Akeno could have had many a men hanging by her words; slack-jawed and absolutely without issue to her request. Of course, whenever Akeno acted in this sort of manner, it was difficult to say whether she was simply playing with a man or not. She certainly hadn't a boyfriend to speak of, nor ever felt the need to date besides having some rather devoted male suitors pursuing her with vigor, so it was always a question of if her attitude was meant to garner a desiring want from a man or not or simply to play with them, as her own devilish-self.

Akeno always turned away any and all pursuers; claiming to be interested in playing, but not in being, with a man in any sort of way.

Was she a tease?

Yes.

Did any of the boys who vied for her attention care?

Not in the least.

And that was how everyone involved seemed to like it.

Naruto, at the moment, looked at his friend and wondered silently on why she was whispering to him then. The dark-haired woman had lowered herself in a sort of half-bow; had her eyes half-lidded, staring, as if tired; and seemed to be curiously happy, with a light blush to her cheeks, as he gave her his undivided attention. Naruto recognized the girl's actions, of course. He'd seen them before, and ruled out the possibility of her being sick or unwell. Akeno Himejima, as the former Hokage would admit, was an unusual character who performed unusual actions unlike anyone he'd known before. Not easily read or understood, the young woman acted in a way that the boy couldn't relate towards or recognize.

Sometimes she seemed to be playing with him. Sometimes she acted not unlike some longtime friend, caring and happy in his presence. And sometimes – times such as these – she appeared to almost be…teasing. Teasing him with _something_, he guessed, but for what reasons he hadn't the faintest clue.

He tried to understand Akeno – tried to for _years_ – but seemed no closer to understanding the cunning Queen of the Lady Gremory's Peerage since the day they first met.

Although, Naruto would admit, he did prefer this present 'teasing' attitude she seemed so entertained with. At least when compared to how she acted when first coming to the Gremory Palace all those years ago…

Sorry. That's a story for a later date.

Anyway, back to Akeno's request: "Ah, well, you see," Naruto started as mind ran quickly to think of a way out of this requested kitchen duty, "I'm kind of…hungry? Yeah, right! Hungry! And I really think I should go and grab something to eat before, uh, class." Not for the first time in a while, Naruto applauded his quick yet simple thinking, shallow of a response as it might have been (hey, you be tired and hungry and come up with a lie on the spot!).

But Akeno appeared ready for such a wayward answer, continuing to give him a look that might have been the very definition of _sinful_. "Oh, _please,_ Naruto-kun?" She breathed in a faux-desperate way. "I would be _ever_ so _grateful_ if you would…I'll even make you a…_snack_…" Her eyes were starry and a wondrous shade of deep violet that were all too easy to be lost in. And her words – a tone of pure sex, coupled with a pair of tempting lips – were something few men would have had the control to say no towards.

Naruto happened to be just one of those few men. By ignorance, rather than choice. And in his eyes, he did not see an almost-perfect definition of dark-haired beauty which captivated the eyes and minds of so many men throughout the young girl's short life. Instead, from the former Hokage's point of view, he saw before him a young woman, asking for his help.

And that was enough.

He breathed out a long, tired breath. His old mentality of 'help others then help yourself' kicked in and he knew his plan was lost.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, deflated but with a small smile and nod, "I can help."

"Heehee. I knew you would."

* * *

_Kuoh Academy, Old School Building, Forbidden Wing (Gasper's Room), 12:22 PM_

_SLAP!_

"OW!"

"Come on, Gasper, focus!"

…

…

…_SLAP!_

"OW OW!"

"You gotta be faster than that!"

"Naruto-_niiiii!_"

"Focus!"

…

…

…

…_SLAP!_

"OWWW!"

"Man, you stink at this."

"Naruto-nii-chan is being me-e-e-_eeeeean_!"

Naruto let out a tired sigh as he laid back away from the now teary-eyed Gasper. The half vampire in turn was looking over his hands, red and twitching, as he tried and mostly failed to hold back whimpers from escaping. He waved his hands around, trying to let the room's cool air stop the persistent stinging his hands were now forced to endure, and was now silently wishing he'd never asked if Naruto would be interested in playing his little game.

'Hot Hands,' as Gasper had now discovered the game was aptly named, was not a pastime meant for the soft of skin.

The objective: slap the other's hands.

Hard. And quickly.

It sounded like fun to the closed-off vampire when he first learned of it on one of his lengthy digital escapades into the worldwide web. He'd wanted to play it with someone for some time and had grown excited to share his new discovery with someone he was sure would enjoy it just as much as he. But Naruto, to his surprise, had not visited him for the last few days.

So, quelling his excitement to play until the return of his longtime friend, Gasper had tenaciously awaited the arrival of the blond human. Growing all the more excited by each passing hour until he was sure Naruto would return and practicing his 'technique' for their 'inevitable showdown.' His first words upon seeing his room's door open were, "Naruto-nii! Naruto-nii, I have a game I want to play! Come here, come here, come here! I have a game I want to show you!"

A game, unsurprisingly, Naruto discovered to be rather adept at playing.

Now, for his part, Naruto almost felt bad for the feminine boy. Whimpering and fighting to hold back tears, Naruto imagined that if anyone were watching them it would have looked as if he were doing harm to a young girl. Didn't matter that it was the young vampire's choice to play such a ridiculous game to begin with, he looked like a villain here.

The worst thing about it was that this whole situation started off: Gasper wanted to play a game he just learned and Naruto decided 'why not.'

It started simple enough – with Naruto and Gasper taking turns on both sides of the game – until Naruto brought out the candy and asked his sweets-enjoying friend wanted to make the game more interesting. If Gasper could avoid Naruto's 'slap' just once, he'd get the bag he brought. If not, Naruto would keep the candies himself.

Gasper, thinking he could do it in a small, rare moment of self-confidence, agreed to the terms.

The rest (the last couple minutes) was history.

"Meh…me-meh. Meeeeehhhh…" Gasper's hands trembled in the stinging pain as he tried to keep his discomfort silent as best he could.

Naruto rolled his eyes, reaching over to a box at his side and plucking the small bag of treats into the air.

"Okay, Gasper," Naruto spoke up as the younger boy's whimpers quietly receded, standing from his spot on the hardwood floor, "I gotta get to class. It's been fun but you lost, so-"

"_Noooo!_ Naruto-nii, please!" The young vampire leapt from his spot on the floor and latched on to Naruto's legs. "No no no! Please, one more chance, Naruto-nii! Please! Please please _pleeeeaaassseee!"_

Naruto stood silently as he watched the boy beg at his feet. For candy, of all things.

Quivering lip, beady tear-filled eyes, whimpering noises from the mouth and a slight tremble in stature. If Naruto didn't already know how Gasper would have taken his usual response to this pitiful appearance, he might have slugged him then. Boy dressed like a girl, girl dressed like a boy – he'd pound whoever. He didn't have any disagreements.

There were things to throw away your pride for but … _candy? _

_Seriously?!_

"No," the older of the two teens said, reaching down to pluck the back of his crossdressing friend's shirt collar. "No." He raised his hand with the collar still tightly in his grip, lifting the younger boy to eye-level with barely a sense of effort on his part. "_Nooo…_" Gasper, if he had any quarrels with being manhandled, did not outwardly comment. Rather, his expression remained the same; worried for his friend's departure. With his snacks. "No, Gasper. _No._"

"B-bu-b-bu-but but but…"

"Gasper…no."

"Bu-but I-I-I-I tr-trie-tried re-re-really hard!"

"Yeah, that's great," Naruto said indifferently, not giving much care to the vampire's weeping or begging, "but you lost and that happens. Plus, I gotta get back to class. We'll try this tomorrow, okay? You, me, whole 'nother bag of candy." He hoped that would alleviate the boy's distress. "I mean; it's not like it's going to kill you to go a day without-"

"_Nooo, pleeeeaase!_" The boy suddenly began to struggle and writhe in the air with the former Hokage's words falling on deaf ears. "One more chance! One more chance and I'll get it! I promise! Come on, Naruto-nii, give me another chaaaaance!"

Gasper's words were drawn out. Desperate. And his wriggling only added further emphasis to absolutely pitiful sight. And Naruto only stared down at him. Quiet, but with a slight look of aggravated annoyance.

Staring at the quivering boy in his hand, Naruto let out a sigh which expressed his deep weariness before casually turning his eyes away from the forlorn, puppy-dog eyed vampire's expression towards the far side of the room.

An old grandfather clock – somewhat dust-covered and worn with age – casually sat behind Gasper's casket, clicking away the time. Naruto recalled actually being the one to put the clock their himself when helping the boy move into his new abode; far enough from Gasper that it wouldn't disturb his sleep with hits ticking, but close so as that he may be able to casually rise from his rest and discover the hour of the day. And now, Naruto, taking note of the time, realized he had, admittedly, time still to spare.

He looked back to the boy and his tear-filled eyes. Then to the clock. Then back to the boy and his begging gaze.

He narrowed his eyes, looking like something between annoyed and glaringly angry, then let out a long, drained sigh.

_Crap._

He dropped the boy, hearing a light 'eep' as the feminine boy hit the wood floor ungracefully, and sat himself back to his original spot. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, wiping away ever growing signs of his lack of sleep, and stared towards the surprised Gasper.

"One chance. I'm gonna give you _one. Last._ _Chance._" He punctuated his words, reaching out to pull the small bag of candies and give it a little shake. The candies rattled appropriately, easily getting the smaller youth's attention. Gone were the tears and the fearful expression, replaced with a now hopeful enthusiasm. He looked ready to jump his longtime friend in a vicious embrace. "_One_, you hear me? _One_. Because I'm just that nice of a guy. Hit my hands _once_ and this," he gave another shake of the bag, "is all yours. If not…eh, Koneko still likes chocolate, right?"

Gasper's tiny stature shuddered at attention, getting back into a sitting position in front of his senpai and holding his hands out quickly, lest Naruto change his mind.

As before and as the game required, Naruto had his hands placed under the softer, thinner hands of Gasper. The younger boy's hands were colder than his own, Naruto silently noted, but cared little for such a fact. All vampires, even half-breeds, were cold-skinned by nature.

"Gasper," Naruto spoke up, taking Gasper's focus away from his hands and staring into his cerulean orbs, "relax, alright. _Relax,_" the boy was stiff as a board. He was tight and stiff in the shoulders where he needed to be lithe and nimble. "Take a deep breath. And keep breathing." Gasper did not react immediately, pausing to the older boy's words before nodding and following his instruction.

Controlling one's breath was important, Naruto understood. It was one of the first things Surtr Second pushed into Naruto's young mind when they started his training. And as a side note, it was also one of the first things taught during his early days on Mount Myoboku. Although, the consequences if Naruto failed in his breath exercises on the mountain were a bit more severe (of the turning-into-a-giant-stone-frog variety).

All Gasper had to worry about was losing some candy, the lucky bastard.

"Control and power come from the breath," he continued. "Use your breath to find the center of your power. Use your breath to control it. Allow the air in your lungs to flow through you." He started to sound less like a friend helping and more like a sagely-teacher, then. Definitely not like how the average teen acted, and _especially_ not for a teen like Naruto.

If Gasper noticed, he did not comment, instead trying to follow his friend's instructions silently.

"Breath in."

Gasper did so.

"Breath out."

Gasper did so.

"Breath in."

He repeated.

"Breath out."

Again, he did so.

"Now, keep breathing and follow my hands."

Naruto watched as the boy lowered his gaze back to the space between the two teens, breathing deeply and releasing the air in routine, controlled repetitions. Gasper did not think, only followed the instructions given. His focused was to the hands, now, and looking for the slightest motion from the fingers underneath. The slightest jolt in the touch, the twitch out of place, the briefest-faintest sense of air between the palms touching. Every notion that might have suggested a shift or misplacement in the usual feeling of hands pressed together.

And all the while, he breathed.

Naruto didn't hold the same focus to the hands s Gasper did. He watched the younger boy's features. His poise, his focus, his lack of worry or fear in failure – all good. While Gasper's eyes were to his hands, Naruto's were to the vampire's pink irises. No shift or sign of distraction.

Just right.

Without looking away from the younger boy's eyes, his focus on the boy's focus, Naruto moved his hands around as fast he was able, twisting them around the smaller hands.

Gasper's eyes widened.

And then, Naruto felt his hands move downward.

Quick, steady.

And hit nothing but still, cool air.

"…"

"…"

Gasper's eyes lost their absolute focus. His arms stretched wide and hands out as far from Naruto's as possible.

His mouth was slightly agape, eyes widening in surprise and blinking as if he could not actually believe what had just occurred. Or, maybe, he did not know what had occurred.

His eyes turned away from the spot where Naruto narrowly missed his intended slapping-targets and up to his friend.

Naruto himself seemed mildly surprised. His expression was not as calm or cool as before. Just sort of surprised.

And happy.

He turned his hand to his side, reached over to the small bag of treats, and gave it a quick toss to the vampire. Gasper, for his part, quickly caught his little bag of candies. His eyes suggested he still didn't believe what had happened.

The older blond stood from his spot on the ground, putting his hands in his pockets and gave off a bright, proud smile to his friend.

"Good job, Gasper. You earned them."

It was simple praise but Gasper laughed. A small, not really humorous one. More a laugh of… contentment_._

_Relief_.

With a steady hand, Gasper opened the tiny pouch and carefully procured a single, chocolate-covered balls inside. It was no larger than his thumb, squishy and fresh, circular and delectable. And when he plopped it into his mouth and suckled on its covering, he could have declared, then and there, that _that_ was the best piece of candy he'd tasted in his entire life.

Gasper savored the treat and its flavor for a long while, not even noticing his friend move over to his room's door. He didn't notice the way the blond smiled to himself, watching. He didn't know how Naruto wondered and thought about how his young friend's hands seemed to disappear from where they were in the brief moment where the youth's eyes widened. Where the youth's eyes, in that quick widening, had shifted in shape and darkened in color as they directed their power onto the world. Or, specifically, on Naruto himself.

The effect of Gasper's powers – the power of the _Forbidden Balor View_ – was instantaneous.

And against someone unprepared or lacking in power? _Unstoppable_.

His back turned to young vampire, who continued to gleefully devour the chocolate-covered sweets. Naruto allowed himself the smallest of laughs to escape his lips as he left Gasper's dwellings and made his way to the building's stairs.

_Not bad, kid. Not bad._

* * *

_Kuoh Academy, Main School Building, Room 212, 1:44 PM_

Three young girls watched from the corners of their eyes as a pair of blond teen males sat idly by in the corner of their free study room.

They eyed the two with interest.

One of the boys they knew quite well, by their own admittance, and were grateful to have been put into the room with. Yuuto Kiba, or simply Kiba as he was better known, was the perfect gentleman in their eyes. Always having a kind word to offer, respectful to teacher and student alike, and without question an attractive specimen of the academy's male standard. He was often found surrounded by friends and associates or others who were drawn to his charisma and charm during this hour in the day. The three young girls were no different and often hustled to join his admiring crowds whenever he arrived. He never seemed to mind the trio's, or anyone else's, attention and was always the chivalrous friend. He would always smile, talk kindly and keep himself open and agreeable with everyone he came into contact with. The people who knew him would vie for his attention and would seek ways to gain his favor. Perhaps even with the chance for him to return their feelings when it came to the girls of the Kuoh Academy.

Kiba was known, almost famously, as the 'Prince of Kuoh Academy.'

Many felt this title was well-earned.

The three girls, sitting away from him, had planned to follow their usual routine and commune with him in a friendly-intimate way.

But today, they made no such moves.

No one in the classroom did. No one. Besides the three, most everyone seemed to have an interest in looking to the corner of the room but made no motion to close the distance between themselves and Yuuto Kiba.

The reason why was because…well…he had company.

The other blond – who sat on the opposite side of the desk from Kiba – was…well, actually, the three girls weren't sure who he was.

This new blond was a bit taller and held a more athletic build than their Kiba's leaner physique. His hair was a spiky yellow, perhaps dyed, and cut short by comparison to Kiba's longer strands. Whereas Kiba's face and poise were gentle, charming and handsome, this new boy's features were harder, sharper, and more defined. By no means ugly, the girls could admit, but he seemed aggressive in a way. Perhaps because of his cheeks, which seemed scarred in their eyes. Maybe they were birthmarks, one of them suggested, but the perfect ridging and symmetry they had were too intentional. Or his choice in uniform dress, which was more open and relaxed when compared to how Kiba kept his clean and perfectly set.

He was an oddity, without question. _Not_ a normal teenager.

If anyone was aware of this boy and understood the relationship between Kiba and himself, no one outright said it. In fact, the classroom was largely quiet; sure, some individuals in the room actually took the time to study or familiarize themselves with academics, but most others were intrigued by the unusual happenings.

Maybe the quiet was in an attempt to discern whatever the two boys were talking so intently about? Who's to say.

But still, a newcomer to the room was hardly a reason enough for anyone who wished to get closer to Kiba to throw away any and all chance to talk with their class celebrity. After all, this wasn't the first time someone sat around him, communed with him, only to have a great number of others join up to converse alongside. Kiba, perhaps intentionally for this reason, sat in the center of the classroom for that exact reason; so that everyone who wanted to talk with him would have room to do so without issue.

He was considerate like that, the young girls thought.

But even still, this odd teenager would not have been enough to dissuade anyone from talking to Kiba if they wanted to. Odd appearance aside, he was still just a teenager. It wasn't as if he were flashing anyone a look which promised pain or death if they got too close. In fact, Kiba and the blond seemed unaware of the attention the two were receiving in their corner. Anyone could have just walked over, sat beside them, and probably done as many had before when it came to large groups swarming their handsome prince.

But there _was_ a reason no one a move to do so.

The cause for why no one in the classroom went over to sit and talk alongside Kiba was because the pattern that was often kept when it came to talking with their wonderful second-year peer had been broken.

By Kiba, of all people!

And it was done in the most unusual of ways.

The scarred-cheeked blond, whom no one in the class had seen before, walked into the room, quietly and without anyone really caring or taking notice of him, and sat himself down into a corner. He lowered his head to the desk, making a pillow of sorts out of his backpack, and closed his eyes without a word. Kiba hadn't even noticed him immediately, talking to a small party of upperclassmen before his eyes casually wandered to the corner of the room.

The girls remembered the way his eyes stood up, surprised.

The reason why they remembered it was obvious: he never made such an expression before. Not towards any of them, at least.

He smiled – a large, happy one – and begged his pardon to the upperclassmen before making his way over to the resting teen. He sat before the desk the other teen was napping on then gave a light knock to the wooden counter.

The sleeping blond raised his head, looking momentarily annoyed at being disturbed, before registering who it was who bothered him. Kiba, sweet and kind as always, gave a light wave and a look that almost appeared teasing or joking to the three of them.

Yuuto Kiba did not tease. Or joke. At least, not to them.

After a long yawn from the formerly resting intruder to their classroom, and perhaps a mumbled word or two of disapproval to Kiba's friendly wake-up, the two blonds began to talk with one another with recognizable familiarity. Although the three girls could not make out what was being said, Kiba certainly talked with a high level of enthusiasm to his weary-looking companion. And although the scarred-blond seemed content to talk with Kiba, it was unquestionable to say that the Prince of Kuoh Academy was most definitely the one enjoying their conversation the most. Kiba laughed, spoke eagerly, and generally had this air of delight at whatever the two were discussing that made their corner of the room seem brighter somehow.

He'd never been this way during any of the conversations he had with the girls. Or any of his other classroom peers, for that matter.

If it were a woman, the three girls might have been jealous.

…Actually, on second thought, even though it was a boy, they were _still_ jealous.

They were like this for a while. Just…talking and laughing.

Then a girl – tall, blue-haired with matching pair of eyes and a face which spoke volumes of a powerful confidence underneath her powerful posture – walked into the room and towards the pair of them. She was a fit looking girl, second-year, and looked amused as she stood over the two boys, who only just noticed her presence when she gave a short laugh at their inability to see they were being visited.

Tsubasa Yura was her name. The girls, and those of the classroom in general, knew her quite well. By reputation, of course. She was a member of the Student Council, after all. And her appearance in the class was startling. Rarely did those outside their status quos attempt to even approach someone on her level of the educational hierarchy, let alone speak to.

From what those watching could tell, the two boys seemed to recognize her. Kiba being familiar with someone such as Tsubasa didn't seem to surprise anyone. Kiba was Kiba. But when the azure-haired council member turned her head after addressing Kiba politely and made apparent small talk with the mysterious newcomer, most eyes in the room pressed their ears to eavesdrop.

The girls couldn't make out much. The teens in the corner spoke in casual, quiet tones. Speculation of what they might have been discussing would be a part of later rumors between classes tomorrow. All that anyone could make out before Tsubasa made her leave was the newcomer looking up to the girl's expectant gaze, thinking for a moment, then nodding.

"Alright," the classmates could hear, "when does she want me?"

* * *

_Kuoh Academy, Main School Building, Student Council Office, 4:52 PM_

The Student Council of Kuoh Academy was a student run organization, created and in-action since the school's inauguration.

The idea behind its creation was a simple one; a government system devised by the students, for the students, and run by the students. Its platform would hold power over school facilities, events and organizations, essentially being in the power scale of the educational hierarchy just below the teachers. They would organize and facilitate everything from the elementary to the high school levels. Anything and everything progressive at Kuoh Academy first went through the Student Council's Office.

To have such a powerful caste of students was a move considered too risky by many observers, fearing that students with such levels of control over their peers would abuse their new powers outright and ruin the reputation of the school before it even began. And certainly, in the first years of Kuoh Academy's founding, there were troubles and flaws in the system. Young women not being given proper lessons on holding their places in the Council, not listening to their peers or attempting to maintain a healthy educational environment were common complaints. There was, admittedly, some disturbances and failures in its initial founding.

The school's administrators, however, expressed that this was a natural course in any new system of order. Like with Kuoh Academy in general, they expressed their intents to have a foundation for which strong female minds could be molded through the works and requirements of the council's work. They decided their students needed to understand the importance of voting, and how improperly electing students into positions they were unfit or were otherwise inappropriate for them to be in could be downright disastrous for everyone.

Call it unorthodox teaching, if you'd like. Because it was just that. Unorthodox. But the founders had high hopes for their students and their abilities. There unusual practices would not change that.

Either they would prosper or they would fall. Kuoh Academy was made for the exceptional and the brilliant.

But these troubles were from so long ago, few cared to think about it today. The flaws in the system had been rectified. The problems fixed. Issues and corruption had been worn thin and an entrustment of power and control was firmly set into whomever sat on the council's golden seats. In between the time of the first Student Council and the present one, there were good, bad, mediocre, wonderful, or just outright forgettable groups of students who tried to make Kuoh Academy all the more recognizable; nationally and internationally. But as time went by, the bad councils became fewer and the good ones became more frequent and prosperous.

And as it so happened, the Student Council, which presently resided in the private room dedicated to the student-run government, was largely considered the most prosperous and effective one to date.

Speaking of the current council and its personal school room – placed on the fourth floor of the academy with a view looking over the front entrance, with a series of well-polished desks and leather chairs adorning the large room's sides and a nice center table with sofas surrounding it for visiting guests – presently, the room was largely unoccupied by council members. The room usually had three or four members working diligently on one thing or another, so to see the room near barren of life or activity was strange. Especially at an hour were the sun could still be seen in the sky. It might have seemed unusual to some who knew how diligently Kuoh's council worked.

But, in truth, there was no need to worry.

As mentioned, the room was only 'largely' unoccupied. Not barren.

Sitting on the twin sofas across from one another, with only a table, a small black-and-white board with tiny carved marble pieces scattered around it, and a tray of small mints between them, a dark-haired bespectacled young woman and a familiar blond male sat quietly as they looked at the board between them.

The young woman, slim in figure and proper in appearance, seemed comfortable as she quietly looked over the board with violet eyes. Her companion, a rather stern-looking Naruto, seemed troubled as his cerulean eyes scoured over every inch of the game board, thinking and planning with notable effort as his fingers swept over pieces in an effort to decide which move to make next.

It was no great mystery that the former Hokage's mind was not as attuned to this sort of game. A game which required thinking several steps ahead of one's self and your opponent. Random and unpredictable – those were words which described him best in his tenure as a ninja. He acted on instinct which provided him a cunning intellect of sorts, which suited him well in countless situations. It was something he became famous for in his life; dubbed from an early age as Konoha's Number One Unpredictable Ninja, in fact. His astute prowess and seemingly random actions astounded opponents and friends alike, and made him a _bitch_ to deal with on the fields of battle.

So, perhaps, it would not surprise anyone who knew him that this simple, straightforward and ultimately restricting game of _chess_ was causing him some level of displeasure.

_Do I go with the pawn?_ He wondered silently._ No, no, she'd get that with her…castle-thingy. Uh, how about the pointy-hatted guy – GAH, wait, she had him too! Wait, wait! The horse-knight! He can move! He can-AGH, she has a queen there! What the hell?!_

He raised his hands to his head and through his hair, groaning loudly and pulling at locks of blond hair irritably.

His opponent watched him from her side, allowing herself a small, amused grin as she shifted the glasses comfortably with a single digit.

"Do you wish to give up?" She asked after he stopped his groaning. She knew the answer before he said it, of course, but couldn't help but watch as his distressed expression turned to an annoyed glare directed her way.

"You haven't beaten me!" Naruto declared, pointing a finger across the table towards his smirking 'adversary'. "I still got something up my sleeve! Just you wait!" He turned his eyes back to the game, ignoring the quiet laugh of the girl as she shifted her legs to a more comfortable position.

A moment passed as he looked over his pieces before a hesitant hand reached out to pluck the white castle-like piece from his side of the board and dropped it on the opposite side of the board.

He tapped it, carefully, not yet leaving the piece alone. His eyes looked around his lone castle-piece on the field, looking for any dangers it might have had, before nodding to himself and releasing his hold on it.

He sighed, relaxed, pushing himself back to the couch and rubbing his face with tired fingers.

He gave a light chuckle, eyeing his female opponent confidently. "Take that!"

"Alright then," the dark-haired young woman smiled to him, moving a smooth, soft hand towards one of her black, pointy-topped pieces to his side of the board, leaving it there, quietly and without so much as a second thought.

Naruto's eyes looked surprised as he stared at her move. Her next words, however, made his mouth open wide, small gasps for air escape his lips, and a twitch under his left eye to develop unexpectedly. The girl adjusted her glasses again. The glare they had as they reflected the lowering sun through the open window made her look positively _wicked._

"That's checkmate, Naruto."

She sat back into the couch, with her legs crossed and hands placed comfortably on the bit of skin between her school stockings and her skirt, and allowed a moment to look passively pleased as her opponent straightened himself stiffly and look over the board.

One moment passed.

Then two.

A third.

A fourth, even.

And finally, after a fifth-

"GAAAAAHHHHH!" The Uzumaki screamed, wide eyed and looking more awake then he had the entire day before. "Are you kidding me! How?! I mean, seriously?! _How_?!" He asked no one really in particular. But his little show was giving his audience an amused smirk. "I-I saw it! There was-it was-I made that move and-HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!" He gave another crossed groan/yell, shaking himself wildly as if he'd developed the worst headache in the world.

This went on for a short while. Whether it was because of his defeat or perhaps out of embarrassment for someone significantly younger then himself (mentally, at least) defeating him in a game of strategy, logic and ability.

A man who coordinated vast forces of ninja from around the world in brilliant tactics, organized the development of nations onto technological and cultural revolutions beyond anything seen in centuries, and brought a lasting age of peace through unity and brotherhood – was bested by a teenager.

_Shikamaru would never let me live this down._

He sighed to himself, wiping away weary and self-annoyance from his features, and glanced tiredly at the girl. She was sitting there, quietly, legs-crossed and smiling in a way that was too innocent to not be mischievous.

A younger man might have been embarrassed at such a defeat and playful mockery. But an older one…well, he still felt something akin to wounded pride. But he knew better, and instead offered something of a 'surrendering grin.'

"Ah, crap. I lost," he relented. "Good game, Souna-chan. Good game."

The woman – now recognized as Souna, or Souna Shitori, as was her given name by Kuoh Academy records and duly elected _Student Council President_ – smiled a little wider as she nodded to her opponent. "Thank you, Naruto. That was an enjoyable match," she told him truthfully, her fingers already moving to place the darker pieces on the board back to their original places on her side. Although Naruto was not on the level of opponent which could make her sweat – not like her father or mother, certainly – he did still offer an entertaining reprieve from her daily duties on the rare occasion she had time to do as she wished.

Naruto had always been an entertaining youth for as long as Souna knew him. He echoed a natural brilliance of life and light like no one she'd met before. He was undoubtedly a pleasant individual to spend time with whenever the hulking work of council duties or her own 'private work' with her friends held her down from her spending time on herself.

Rare were the times the two were together; the last time they'd seen one another, she recalled, he 'offered his banana' to her. They exchanged a few words in greeting, small jabs at humor about coffee of all things, and small talk on the other's lives.

It was such a small, average moment.

It turned out to be the highlight of Souna's week.

In the end, all Souna Shitori could say about her blond friend was that Naruto Uzumaki was…fun.

And…she liked that about him…

The left side of her lip twitched, however, as a thought crossed her mind and her eyes turned back to her longtime friend.

"Naruto…" Souna spoke up, a hint of warning in her voice, "I thought I told you how to address me when we're alone…" Usually, Souna Shitori held a tone of which expressed a desire for order or stability in her presence. Rare were the times where she spoke with an underlining edge of intimidation.

Naruto, for his part, appeared confused at what she seemed to be telling him, shifting his eyes to the ceiling in thought. Then his face brightened. "Oh! Oh, right! I remember now!" He laughed to himself, silently pleased with himself with recalling. But his quiet recollection did not seem to pacify his friend, who gave him a harder, more-pointed look from across the table.

Her silent message was well-received, as Naruto felt something like a cold sweat begin to build on his brow. "O-okay…um, s-sorry Sona-chan…"

For those unaware, this slight shift in name would be nothing important. A letter missing – big whoop. But to Souna, who now wished to be referred to as 'Sona' by her blond visitor, this small change seemed to be worthy of some small importance, as she lowered her hard gaze on the boy and finished returning the pieces to the board, looking effectively pacified.

"Apology accepted." She stated curtly, sitting back in her seat and having her stern gaze fixed back towards Naruto. "Now, while this has been an amusing reprieve from my duties, I must confess that this was not my intended reason for asking you here this evening."

Of course Naruto already figured as much, but couldn't help but let a small laugh escape. "Really? And here I thought you just wanted to kick my ass in chess, again."

"Hmph. Hardly. I actually wanted to ask you for a favor on your part." Souna – sorry, _Sona_ – adjusted herself on the couch, looking more business-like now.

"A favor?" Naruto raised an eyebrow to her. "What kind of favor?" If it was something even her colleagues in the Student Council couldn't accomplish then it might have actually been serious. Perhaps it was something so grave that it needed to be done in the privacy of Sona's office space?

The bespectacled young woman noticed the concern on his features and lifted a calming hand. "Relax, my request is a simple one," she told him, "I was hoping that I might be able to entrust a message to you for delivery to a mutual friend of ours."

The 'mutual friend' was obvious. "Rias."

Sona nodded. "I was planning on meeting with her club later this evening and hoped to invite my council with me," her newest member, a young second-year boy, had yet to meet Rias and her small party. It would be good of him to know who he would be dealing with in the future. "If you would simply tell her that we will be hoping to meet sometime this evening, I would be most appreciative."

To come unannounced to someone's personal territory would have been a rude gesture, otherwise. There were procedures to follow when meeting with someone such as Sona or Rias. A 'gesture of announcement' prior to another's arrival would suggest that neither party would be overstepping their boundaries.

Only in emergencies would such formalities be tossed out the window.

Naruto listened carefully from his spot in the room, silently marveling at such a peculiar asking from his longtime friend. "You know you could just call her, right?" He offered his thoughts. "I mean, that's why we got cell phones in the first place. It would take, what, two minutes, tops?"

Sona smirked somewhat, looking then as if she were dealing with a child who did not know better on a matter of importance. "Yes, well, that doesn't seem like the most formal of methods of messaging her, now does it." She looked down at her posture on the couch for a moment, rubbing a wrinkle out of her skirt before glancing back to the curious blond. He still didn't understand, so she elaborated. "Making a request for audience or making an entrance into another's territory, a message should be sent prior. Preferably through a method which is appropriate to one's position. Partly out of respect, partly out of courtesy. It's only proper, you know this."

Naruto honestly argued with the idea that an impromptu visit to Rias' club would have any sort repercussions. The two third-year students were close; had been so for many years before they even ventured together into Kuoh Academy. And when the two could see each other every day by walking a short distance to the other's club/council room, apartments, or classroom, it seemed rather trivial to send a message to say 'hey, coming over, be there in five!'

Ironically, this method of announcing one's arrival to another body of power was actually used quite frequently in Naruto's older days of life. Of course, post-Fourth Ninja War, this practice of communing or announcing the arrival of another had become trivial or even meaningless with advancements in communicative technologies, though parts of his world still held to the old ways closely. Coming and meeting without prior notice would have been the epitome of insolence, and at one time would have been a warranted enough reason to dishonor or even execute an uninvited person.

Naruto doubted such an extremity would ever occur between the two young women, but if they really wanted to act like grownups, who was he to argue?

"And you want _me_ to give Rias this message, because…?"

"Well, I suppose I could have anyone on the council do it for me," Sona admitted, "but I thought this way would be more efficient. My friends are off fulfilling their duties at the moment. We're actually quite busy this week, the requests for our assistance have been rather high. However, I have made time this evening in the hopes of engaging Rias in a friendly bit of conversation. With any luck, she'll be able to meet with me, and this matter can be settled with little hassle." She explained this all to him as if she were a big-wig at a company of grand standing, with her cool and flawless tone conveying her every idea and plan as if it were without fault or problem.

Naruto tried to think for a moment about how tonight would go. He understood, based only off conversations early in the day, that Akeno and Kiba would be away from the clubroom to deal with their individual contractors but would probably be available later, and could only assume Koneko and Asia would be free this evening.

Rias would probably be around, too. She hadn't received many requests of late, with few having the potential to actually request someone of her rank and ability.

So, with those thoughts, Naruto nodded. "Yeah, alright. I can tell her."

"Excellent," Sona nodded in return, looking as pleased as her usually hard features allowed. "Then I believe our business is concluded." She stated matter-a-factly, to which Naruto answered her with a long stretch of his arms to both of sides, earning a relieved groan and several snaps of tightened muscles. Sona found the action uncouth, but not outside of Naruto's usual character.

"Alright," Naruto bellowed, smiling brightly as he lifted himself from the couch and moved around the room towards the open windows of the room. A nice breeze greeted him as he did so. "I'll give Rias-chan the message when I…"

His words stopped short.

Sona, still watching her friend from the couch, looked somewhat curious at his sudden pause. Something had caught his attention as he stopped by the room's large window.

By design, the Student Council's office was positioned westward in the direction of the school's entrance, looking out over the city. On warmer days, the Council liked to open the windows to allow a natural breeze to come in and cool the room. Sona had, in fact, opened the windows herself before Naruto's arrival, thinking to give the room a little comforting circulation before they went down to business.

It was comfortable and efficient. The entirety of the council approved of the room's overall design.

Sona quietly observed her friend as he leaned himself forward, trying to get a better viewing of the outside from his position. Naruto seemed to be enjoying himself. Looking calm yet absorbed by whatever it was which held his notice. The Student Council President's didn't wait long before standing from her space on the couch, now somewhat curious as to what might have captured her blond-headed friend's attention so intently, and moved herself to be positioned at his side.

He gave her a small, satisfied look before turning his cerulean eyes back out.

Sona followed his gaze, tilting her head to see what had taken so effortlessly her active friends attention.

The first thing she saw was the sun. It was setting and only just moving past the trees and buildings which made up Kuoh's horizon; it's golden-orange glow gave everything a reddish tint to it. There was a soft wind which bristled the leaves of trees and shook the branches, students whom may have just been leaving the school from clubs or late afternoon studies, and perhaps a couple birds floating above the tree lines towards some unknown location. The sounds of distant traffic could be heard but didn't seem to destroy the scene or viewing, and small clouds which flew overhead, orange and faded, gave the sky some feeling of liveliness to it.

It was a view Sona often saw as she worked in her office space. One she'd grown to recognize with her long hours working.

And if she were to be honest, she did not find it at all compelling.

By her own admission, the young president never considered herself an individual who enjoyed the finer sights of life. They were simply things that never appealed to her like they did others; the natural growths of forests, the formations of rock chiseled from years of rain and decay, or the power of nature's storms.

Sona was a lady of facts, disciplines and order; an appreciator of handmade things and efforts given. Things of nature or natural creation…they held little interest to her personally, but she would not sully them or their worth for others. She would more often find herself intrigued with the intricacies of a city and how every part was controlled and worked like a well-oiled machine to see the next day finished and plentiful, all organized by the intentional hands of many others. Or perhaps dive into a fine novel and its complex characters, being able to connect an author's feelings or decisions onto the real world and improve herself from the experience of understanding.

Those were the things she liked; the things she could understand and manipulate herself.

To see it improved upon. Bettered. Her reasoning for taking up the role of Student Council President was with this single goal in mind in the hopes of improving Kuoh Academy beyond what any president had ever done before.

She was ambitious woman. A fact many knew.

But Naruto was different, it seemed, as Sona turned her gaze away from the landscape and to her friend who quietly looked out of the office window and towards the front gates of the academy. Her eyes took an inquisitive edge to them, as if they were attempting to study him and understand why he appreciated this simple thing.

To understand what he saw which she could not.

Her eyes looked over everything. The way he looked out over the trees and courtyard with the sun hitting him in a way which made his body shine and shimmer. The way he stood, appearing almost picturesque as he looked over everything their window could foresee. The way his hand, rough and course, held the wall at his side, balancing his form while he attempted to angle himself to take in more and more of the sunset view. And the breeze; the way it ran through his hair, coupled with the orange glow of the lowering sun, made it seem like a yellow flame dancing.

But his eyes, above all, were the most captivating jewels of blue. Sona once admitted, in private conversation, to being envious of the boy's eyes. Those natural orbs of aquamarine had a soul-piercing power to them, she was sure. They portrayed the emotions and truths of their owner so openly, they were easy to fall behind and trust the man behind them. And now, as their colors mixed with glow of the setting sun, those thoughts about their impressiveness only seemed to be bolstered alongside her jealousy of his eyes.

She could not look away from them. From him. From _all_ of him.

Staring at Naruto then, even for that short bit of time, Sona imagined that maybe she could understand, if only a little, what others felt when seeing something in nature.

What a fleeting feeling, it must have been. But it was there.

It was…regal and…nice. She thought she could see it then through this careless, happy boy she knew so well.

She wanted to watch Naruto. For a few moments longer, at least. But it seemed her wish would not be granted, for as she stared, Naruto felt the pair of violet eyes on him, taking his attention away from the window.

"Need something?" He asked her softly, knocking Sona out of her silent stupor.

"Ah, no-no. I'm good, thank you." She quickly replied, moving a smooth hand up to the bridge of her nose and adjusting her glasses. They seemed to have shifted on their own between when she moved from her place on the couch to the boy's side. She hadn't noticed, and was now feeling somewhat self-conscious of her own appearance standing next Naruto.

For his part, the former Hokage didn't seem to be bothered by his friend's fidgeting. He smiled to her, content and in the moment, before looking back out the window and taking one last fleeting glance over to the lowering sun over the trees and homes.

He felt nostalgic, then, with the wind, the leaves, and the view. He remembered having an office with a view like this. A great view which looked out over his entire village. He remembered taking his children to see that view so many times, sitting on his lap to look out the large window and point down to people below.

'They look so tiny,' his youngest would always say, amazed at being so high.

'I wanna squash 'em,' his oldest, and certainly loudest, would declare as he pressed his tiny thumbs to the glass and tried to smear the humans.

They made him laugh.

He pushed himself from the wall and window – the glow of the sun losing itself on him and the breeze falling flat through his golden locks – and stepped back more carefully into the room. He was tempted to take the quick way out of the school building, but Sona had scolded him harshly for the last time he decided to leap out her window without caring if someone saw him or not (though, to be fair, it was almost reflex to jump out of a government leader's window for him).

And so, Naruto moved past his friend and towards the doorway leading to the lengthy hallway of the fourth floor hallway. His hand reached for the brass handle, barely having his fingers graze over the cool metal, when a voice spoke up from behind.

"Actually, Naruto," Sona's voice rang out, surprisingly loud in the large room, catching her friend's attention as he turned himself away from the door. Naruto stared in her direction as she stared back to him, her features holding a recognizable hardness to them before she quickly turned her gaze away to the corner wall. A carved wood clock was held up, ticking away the time of day at an ever constant pace. "…Ruruko shouldn't be back for some time, I think. Her clients are quicker than the others, but I think there's still time before she returns."

Ruruko Nimura, first-year Student Council member. A girl who liked to smile, wear her hair in ponytails, and only barely kept within academy dress code with an obnoxious pair of green-striped stockings. Naruto recalled meeting her once before when she officially joined Sona's group. She was endearing, he guessed was a word best used to describe her, but pleasant enough to have conversations with still. She was a good pick for the Council.

But as to why Sona was telling him this, Naruto could not guess. "Okay…"

Sona kept quiet for a long moment. Her eyes still watching the clock. "I…I would…would you mind…" Her lower lip tensed by her failed sentencing. She was starting to look irritable. "I…that is, I wouldn't mind having another game with you." She paused again. Her lower lip tensed some more, and her eyes narrowed angrily for some odd reason. Her arms crossed themselves tightly over her school uniform, with her tone growing a bit harder as she forced herself to look away from the clock and towards her friend. She almost seemed to be glaring at him. "Chess, I mean. I would like to play chess with you again. Today. Now. If you have the time."

Her words were clipped and to the point. Naruto blinked at her, confused, before turning his focus towards where the shorter female had stared so furiously at a moment ago.

He studied the time for a second, looking at the clock hands carefully. Usually, he would already be in the Occult Research Club's clubroom by now. And usually, by that time, he would be doing homework, or talking to one of Rias' Peerage, or maybe just staring at the ceiling, waiting for something to happen, bored out of his mind.

Going to the Old School Building now sounded about as fun as watching grass grow. Not that having his mental-ass handed to him by Sona was any better, but at least it offered a few thrills and made the time pass much quicker. Plus, Naruto told himself, it was Sona who was asking. The girl he used to sneak out with during sleepovers to raid the family pantries; skip rocks by the lake under the full moon; or tell stories of ancient warriors taking on beasts the size of mountains to her great enjoyment and delight.

How could he say no?

"I think I got time," he finally answered, grinning softly with his voice holding an underlining sound of amusement. He waved a finger at Sona, looking increasingly amused by the second, "Just you wait, Sona-chan! I'll beat you! This time, I'll definitely win!" He laughed loudly as he went back to his spot on the couch and went about picking his individual pieces again, placing them in their proper places and readying himself for another, probably gruesome, game of chess with Kuoh's Lady Strategist.

And all the while he smiled and snickered and worked to position his pieces in their rightful places, Sona stood by the open window. Watching him, with ever stony-eyes and serious expression.

"Maybe," she spoke softly, navigating herself back to her spot on the couch, "I don't think I would mind if you did."

* * *

_Old School Building, Occult Research Club clubroom, 7:53 PM_

The couches in the Occult Research Club are _amazing_.

Seriously. MVP of the day: leather couch.

Top of the line black leather. Over six feet long in length. Cushions which your body could almost sink into.

And those soft pillows on the sides? Yeah, those rocked, too.

For the first time that day, Naruto found his head pressed against a comfortable surface and able to close his eyes for longer than a few blissful moments. His mind thanked him; his eyes closed off to the thankfully dim-lit room around him; and even his breathing slowed as his form tried to drift away to the land of dreams.

This moment would have been perfect, were it not for the loud, active voices and sounds that echoed around him.

"Wisteria-san was very pleased this evening. She seemed rather concerned with an issue she was having in her office, but I believe she only needed an ear to hear her out – her husband has been away overseas and her sister has been busy her second child. In addition, she seemed to enjoy my sukiyaki and we are expected to meet up again this following week." Kiba, always so professional.

Naruto thought he could actually hear the nod coming from Rias. "Excellent. Akeno, anything from Eiji-san?"

"Well, my day's work was simple. Eiji-kun wanted to talk about his troubles with his younger brother. Apparently, he hasn't been focusing on his studies and whatnot. And with Eiji-kun supporting him through college, his mother taking ill and in the hospital, and his wife being rather neglectful lately, I think the poor guy just needed someone to listen to his worries." A giggle. "But he was very kind. He made a lovely bit of tea for the both of us. Honestly, such a sweetheart. I think he was very pleased with our meeting together."

"I expected nothing less." Rias sounded pleased. "Koneko? You have someone scheduled for tomorrow evening, correct?"

"Hmm. Two guys. Hanji. Morisawa. Shouldn't be a problem." Came a droning response, followed by sounds of chewing. Hard candy, probably.

"Very good. Oh, and Asia-chan, Hayato and Daiki-san have requested you again for this coming Thursday. Do you think you can handle two contracts in one evening?"

"Oh yes! I-I think I can handle it!" A chipper answer as always. Naruto made a mental note to have his Thursday night free. Just in case.

"Glad to hear it. I've only heard good things from your people. I'm very pleased with your results."

"Oh! Thank you, Rias-san!" He could practically hear the smile on her face.

Naruto shifted on the couch, his arm over his eyes and trying to block the additional conversation which followed as his mind tried but failed in keeping out the outside noises. It wasn't exactly the club's fault; this was there room for use. He just happened to be using it as a makeshift bedroom.

"Asia-chan, would you like a refill?" Akeno's voice chirped up, Naruto hearing the sound of moving china on his side.

"Yes, please! Thank you!"

A familiar giggle. "It's no problem at all. Kiba-kun, for you?"

"I'm good, thanks."

"Koneko-chan?"

"…I'm fine."

"Naruto-kun?" Naruto stiffened in his spot, reacting to his name. He lifted his arm slowly, turning his eye to the smiling ebony-haired youth in his vision. "Would you like something to drink?" Akeno asked him sweetly, holding up a kettle of warm tea to his view.

Naruto's eyed her for a moment, slowly coming back to his senses, as he eyed the warm drink in her hand before casually turning his gaze around to the rest of the room.

Koneko snacked on her treats, Kiba looked to be reading some novel, and Asia was enjoying her tea and communing with those in the room. The three sat on the couch across from him, not asking for him to move or offer space to any of them. If he felt embarrassed for taking an entire couch for himself, he didn't show it.

And Rias, as usual, sat at her throne at the end of the room, behind a solidly built desk and in a large chair of a similar, soft material as the couches. She seemed to have been writing something intently a moment before, her pen still held tightly in her fingers, but the red-haired beauty had her attention strayed away towards her young nephew as he eyed his surroundings tiredly.

She was smiling to him. Entertained by his weariness, it seemed. Her blue eyes seemed touched with a silent cheerfulness, and her smile only matched her mirthful expression.

She was teasing him. As if he were a child just waking up from a nap.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, annoyed and attempting to avoid her mocking gaze, Naruto growled out, "I'm fine, thanks," then turned himself further from the views of those around him.

He could hear Akeno's amused giggles. Then Kiba and Asia's, though there's were quiet chuckles rather than blatant laughs at their friend's 'suffering.' If Koneko cared about his displeasure she didn't comment, only chewing loudly on her snacks.

Naruto felt effectively cowed. Over one-hundred years in age and he could still be brought down to feeling like a kid.

Oh the shame.

Rias looked on as Akeno left her nephew be, returning to her self-given duties with a smile. Asia and Kiba followed suit, looking amused and gladdened by their friend's embarrassed actions. She smiled to them, her kind Bishop and Knight, before shifting her gaze back to her nephew, seeing him move on his commandeered couch. She noticed how he hid his face, pushing it into the cushion in his attempts to avoid the others' gazes.

However, from her place at the side a slight peak at his face as he tried to cover himself from the others view. She could only just make out the slight tint of red on his cheeks.

_Ahh, he's embarrassed._ Her entertained mind thought, quietly holding back a laugh of amusement._ So cute._

She watched him for a little longer, seeing as he tried and failed in his attempts at falling asleep over the conversations in the room, pulling a couch pillow over his ear in a meager attempt to block out the noises around him.

Honestly, Rias could have told him his presence was not necessary and that he could go to his apartment to rest. She was more than capable of ensuring Asia returned to his apartment, safe and sound, every night if it would comfort him. But, of course, Rias was also fully aware of her nephew's less than exceptional attendance in coming to her clubroom in the last several months. His reasons for being absent from most-everything she and her group did was causing something of a concern for her (and surely the others, though she would argue her worries were more severe than theirs). When asked, he would offer some excuse or reason for being unable to attend, or just outright not be found available to speak to. His cellphone would be off, or he wouldn't answer their calls or texts, and don't even get her started on his inability to answer any means of magical long-distance communication. You would only send the Gremory Heiress into a rant.

So, in a way, this last month had been something of a vacation for the group; maybe no one would admit it, but having Naruto around, sleeping though he was presently, made the dimly-lit room seem a little brighter and lively.

They had the gang back together. And if that meant using Asia's safety as a means to have him visit them more often…well, she figured some sacrifices would just have to be made.

Rias smiled wickedly to herself, certainly believing herself quite the manipulator then, returning her gaze to a mix of papers which stretched from homework to contractor letters of gratitude.

Then, a disturbance in the room shook everyone's attention to the clubroom's door.

_Knock knock knock knock._

Rias found herself slightly out of place, as did the rest of her Peerage. Her eyes had widened by the surprising noise. While sure, it wasn't as if no one beside her Peerage came to the room, it was odd to find someone visiting at such a late hour.

Kiba and Koneko turned their attention to her, looking curious. Akeno kept her eyes on the door, looking slightly defensive in case of emergency. Asia looked between the door and the others, not understanding why no one was answering it. And Naruto…well, he didn't seem as attentive or alive as the others, but he didn't have his head pressed so closely to the couch cushions as before, his ear perked for additional noise.

_Knock knock knock knock._

Rias still stared at the door, not really sure what to make of it, but seeing as it would be rude to wait much longer, gestured for Akeno to proceed.

Akeno gave a curt nod, still smiling but with no amusement to it, casually walking to the room's door and twisting

"Oh my!" She shouted, opening the duel doors to the room further. "Buchou, I believe we have guests."

Rias looked curious as Akeno opened the door further, revealing a group of several individuals on the other side. Her face brightened considerably when she recognized the first person at the door. "Oh! Sona! What a surprise!" She shouted loudly, standing from her desk and waving her hand inward. "Come in, come in!"

From just outside the doorway, surrounded by several young individuals wearing Kuoh Academy regulated uniforms, the stern-looking Sona softened her features into a small smile and nodded to her longtime friend. "It's good to see you, Rias," she replied in a tone appropriate for greeting, stepping carefully into the decorated clubroom, followed by her band of fellow students – a half-a-dozen or so young women and a single, standalone male, "I hope you don't mind my sudden invitation into your clubroom. I found my week unusually busy with requests and could only find time to meet tonight."

"Of course, of course! You know it's no problem at all." Rias replied back jovially, still smiling and uncaring of the large group which had made its way into her room. "Would you like to have a seat? I could have Akeno prepare something for you or your council, if you'd like."

Sona actually had her small smile grow a little. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I actually came to hopefully discuss the matter of this weekend with you." She stated, adjusting her glasses with a slender hand. "I hope it won't take up too much of your time."

Rias' eyes perked up with curiosity, looking somewhat surprised and amused as she lowered herself back to her chair. She knew what the Student Council President was referring to almost instantly. "Oh really?" She asked with a smile. "I take it it's this young man your sponsoring for Familiarity?" She waved a hand towards Sona's group, gesturing to the lone boy standing.

Sona nodded, raising a hand and addressing her companion. "This is Genshirou Saji. Second-year student, honor roll, and the latest student-elected member to join the Student Council."

The boy – now introduced as Genshirou Saji – smiled and offered a small bow in the direction of Rias and her group. Saji was a tall youth with dull-colored blond hair. He stood casually at his President's side, wearing the academy's required uniform, though seemed to have foregone the required blazer sometime before. His undershirt had its sleeves rolled up, showing off simple pink-tinted skin underneath. His overall expression was friendly enough, holding his lean stature casually even in the presence of others, and seemed to be generally a well-adjusted fellow by only appearances alone.

Naruto, tilting his head to the side of the couch and looking at the boy, recognized the boy from a few months prior one of the Student Council's elections.

He remembered voting for him. He thought Sona would like him. He wasn't mistaken.

"Hi there," Saji spoke up, "It's nice to finally meet you. President Sona has only spoke highly of you and your 'club.'" The way he phrased the word 'club' would have seemed curious to most others not familiar with the two.

Rias, however, took it with a small bit of humor. "The pleasure is all ours," she replied pleasantly as the young man took a step back with the rest of the council. Rias turned her attention back to Sona. "Well, I congratulate you on his appointment to your council and his rise to being allowed Familiarity." The congratulations sounded genuine enough, but Rias' smile widened a bit, looking almost ominous then. "But there's going to be a bit of a snag in your plans, I'm afraid."

Sona remained stone-faced to her declaration. "And why's that?"

Rias stifled a small laugh. "It just so happens that I've also decided to elect a member of my group, as well. Asia Argento, my newest member, has more than earned her right for Familiarity." She leaned forward in her desk, taking a look which could almost be called _challenging_. "And I just so happened to want this Sunday to introduce her to Zatouji, _myself_."

Sona's eyes widened only a margin, while Saji and the rest of her council actually looked quite startled by this new development. Kiba's eyes matched most others, wide and surprised, and even Koneko turned her attention away from her snacks to look up to her King. Akeno looked between Rias and Sona, smiling a smile very similar to Rias' own, but was politer and willing to hide it behind smooth fingers.

And Naruto? He wasn't even trying to sleep now. This was just as much of a surprise to him as the others.

Asia, for her part, looked confused to what was being conversed, but Kiba offered her a quiet, "Congratulations," while Koneko gave her a firm 'thumbs up.' She took it in stride, but still wasn't sure what this meant.

Sona quickly took back control of herself, looking ever serious again. "Well," she began, "I must say, I congratulate you on finding a new Bishop." The president said generally, offering a small nod to the former nun to her side. "But I do question whether Argento-san is ready yet. It hasn't even been a month yet since she joined and you're nominating her for Familiarity. I honestly wonder if she even has the ability to hold a Familiar. I even made Saji wait before offering him Familiarity, and I find his ability noteworthy."

To outside forces, this conversation seemed to be turning into something quite odd.

"I am aware of your concerns," Rias replied back, "however, Asia-chan has only performed admirably this past month. If I didn't feel she was ready for her own Familiar than I would not recommend her." She turned and offered a small, less-devious smile to her Bishop, who could only smile back sheepishly and pretend to understand what was happening around her.

Sona, however, only rolled her eyes at her friend's declaration. "Why am I not surprised?" She asked, mostly to herself, largely ignoring Rias and her mirthful stare. "So what will this be, hmm? The third time? Hmph. I'm starting to think this is intentional." Sona gave a hard look towards her seated friend, who only seemed to enjoy herself further under its gaze.

"_Purely_ coincidental, I assure you."

"Yes,I'm sure…"

Rias seemed to be enjoying her little playing with her friend. Even though Sona seemed to be less than thrilled with this development. The dark-haired girl was probably even wondering why she brought up her wanting to introduce Saji to Zatouji and his woods; her oldest friend's reaction to her announcement almost seemed written in stone.

Rias Gremory. To Sona, she was ever a joker behind a noble form.

Perhaps she should have known better.

For her part, Rias quietly held back her enjoyment for a moment longer before speaking again. "Alright, alright. We'll figure something out between the two of us." The two heiresses always did, as anyone who knew them could attest. Rias rose from her chair and navigated herself around her desk towards the standing council president. The smile she wore lost some of its teasing-edge, looking friendlier now. "But, if we are going to discuss this weekend's events, I really wish I had prepared _something_ for you and your friends to nibble. Honestly, Sona, you're making me feel like a bad host!" She laughed with herself. "Truthfully, when I saw you at my door, I almost couldn't believe it was you. Sona Sitri, Student Council President, not even bothering to announce herself before visiting. _So unlike you!_" Rias said these words as if they were scandalous. Sona quirked an eyebrow at her words. "I expected at least a call, a text or something – to just walk in on my clubroom, unannounced? It's so _daring_ of you." Rias said this in good humor, of course. Whether her friend came over in the early morning or midnight hours, her presence was always welcome. Despite Sona's adherence to policy and tradition, Rias felt that the two had known each other long enough to forego such silly traditions.

It actually somewhat surprised the young Gremory Heiress to see a lack of prior notice come from her friend. Perhaps this was some form of progress.

Sona, however, gave a confused look to her red-haired friend. "But I did," she stated in her usual cool tone, "I had Naruto meet me earlier for that exact purpose. He said he would tell you I was coming…"

Rias blinked now, surprised, and turned her blue eyes to the boy laying comfortably on her couch.

The rest of the eyes in the room followed, turning to Naruto who stared back innocently to them.

He was too tired to even look sheepish at his discovered fault.

"…Oh, right," The blond started, turning his head up to the crimson-haired woman in the room. He smiled, "Hey, Rias-chan. Sona-chan told me to tell you that she was planning on coming over sometime today." He blinked for a moment, eyes moving up to the bespectacled youth by the front of the room, who'd eyed him with a look of growing annoyance and disbelief, then turned back to the redhead in the room. "And she _might_ be bringing the Student Council with her." He added as an afterthought.

He closed his eyes and lowered his head back to the soft cushions then, not caring of the several staring eyes pointed his way.

The room had quieted down considerably. Maybe now he'd get a few z's.

"Just…thought you might want to know that…"

* * *

Ah, yes. Perhaps some elaboration is in order here.

Ahem.

Souna Shitori: recognized lady of elegance and beauty by students and admirers alike with a brilliance in all manner of classwork. The undeniable victor in the school's Student Council election, winning by a landslide vote against any and every opponent who came to challenge her claim to the Council's leadership position, held a gift for persuasion and leadership which added a certain charismatic edge to her usually stern looks. Known almost famously within and outside the walls of Kuoh Academy, Souna Shitori was a marvelous young woman whose name was said often with praise to her ability or achievements, with many believing, post-graduation from either the Academy's high school or college, the young woman would go on to do many and wonderful things.

The possibilities for her seemed limitless.

All in all, Souna Shitori was a talented and hardworking young lady. Those facts could never be denied. But they were _hardly_ all that could be said about the young lady.

In fact, by many others admission, they were merely the tip of the iceberg.

In actuality, Souna Shitori held a far more recognizable and regarded title. A name more readily recognized around the span of a dozen worlds and beyond the small, green world of the humans. A name which, though different only minutely to the one her peers and colleagues called her by in public, held a spark of fearful recognition and respect to it for many and all species aware of it.

Souna Shitori was only a mere alias to the teenage girl. Her true title was that of the lady _Sona Sitri_; heiress to the Sitri Household, one of the few remaining great houses of the Underworld, and sister to one of the Four Great Satans, _Serafall Leviathan_.

Sona Sitri was a Devil. A Devil of rank and status equal to that Rias Gremory, herself.

Speaking of whom, perhaps it might have seemed strange how two high-ranking and important Devils such as Rias Gremory and Sona Sitri could have found themselves curiously in the same location on the Human World. Devils of higher authority were infamously territorial, and with two Devils placed into the same city along with attending the same school of the same year? Well, it might have seemed worrisome for those who were unfamiliar with the history behind the two heiresses.

Before Kuoh Academy, before the formation of their individual Peerages (Rias' Occult Research Club and Sona's – surprise! – Student Council), before even Naruto had introduced himself into their lives, the two children had formed something of a 'sister-ship' with the other and had spent many days and nights in the other's presence. No doubt brought upon by the already familiar connection of their individual mothers, for whom both were famous in their own ways and close friends which spanned to centuries prior, the two daughters had shared everything in their youths from toys to baths and everything between. Whenever a momentous occasion occurred in either of the two young girl's lives, one could be sure to find the footprint of the other close by, laughing and smiling and enjoying whatever goings-on were occurring.

It was a lovely sight, really.

Their connection was a famous one. Many Devils and other species alike wondered what the future would bring to these young heiresses.

Only bright and great things, many imagined. And unquestionably together, as well.

However, as what came as a surprise to many was when in the early days as a pair of Teenage Devils, an occurrence arose when they announced they would be attending an educational facility…in the _Human World_.

It was certainly the juiciest gossip to hit the Devil community. What spurred such an action forward, many asked. Was it study the Human culture? Its weaknesses? Its strengths? To perhaps garner some valuable member to their individual Peerages, to which Rias had already adamantly begun early in her life at assembling her own powerbase, whereas Sona had curiously spent little to no time at amassing her own party. Maybe their enrollment in a Human School was to encourage an attack by the Angels or maybe to increase their individual powers by way of Contracts. And Rias was even taking her young nephew with her – and for the sake of keeping the list short on just how many rumors and implications came from THAT tidbit of information being released to the public, let's just say the idea of a young man with no blood relations following a pair of young, attractive females had a certain appeal to many of the Underworld's public chatter.

Gossip is gossip, it seemed, no matter the species or world.

Anyway, the girls devised where exactly they wished to go and why easily enough; Sona, to somewhere credible and prestigious, and Rias, to Japan. Kuoh Academy turned out to be an easy choice thereafter, as both parents of the two children happened to be heavily invested into the academies development.

Coincidence? Maybe. The lords of Sitri and Gremory certainly played it off as such. And it made enrolling into the academy all the easier for the two girls and, in the case of Rias, her Peerage easy.

And as further coincidences went, the year Kiba and Naruto decided to follow their King and aunt into the Human World just so happened to be the same year the motion to make Kuoh Academy a gender-neutral academy took place.

'Coincidences,' am I right?

But anyway, the transfer from the Underworld to Kuoh Academy seemed rather positive. Rias began to send her Peerage out onto their assignments to contractors around the city, and Sona began to calculate and evaluate every student from the elementary-level to the college-based students on their worth or value and convince them to join her Peerage (which subsequently also meant her Student Council). And although the two girls spent less time with one another as their responsibilities grew, they still kept in touch from time to time, exchanging gossip and rumors and whispers on their lives.

And if nothing else, the two Devils always seemed to make time for a reoccurring theme of disciplining a certain Son of Lucifer…

* * *

In truth, forgetting to deliver a message of such low importance was really nothing to be so upset about.

Truthfully, Naruto could attest that forgetting something so minor as this was nothing really to be punished on. The ninja could affirm that in his previous life, he'd made far more grievous errors, worthy of reprimand, than just not passing a message from one friend to another.

Okay, yell at him, say he did wrong. That would be the worst of it. It would be quick and easy and Naruto would pretend to learn his lesson and promise never to do it again.

Simple. Quick. Done.

Unfortunately, when it came to Sona Sitri and Rias Gremory, it seemed _disproportionate retribution_ was a moniker for their dealings with him and his rare bumblings.

On one of the couches, Naruto sat. Sitting up, looking glum and bored, as he tried to pry his attention away from the lectures being spoken at him. And on the other couch in the room, Rias and Sona had taken their positions, sitting comfortably with legs crossed, looking ever lady-like as they spoke quickly on Naruto's lack of remembrance. Their Peerages stood behind them, watching the showing with varying levels of interest and amusement. They were there to look as if they were judging the blond boy, though anyone could see the weariness in the youth's eyes. He probably didn't even know they were there, or at least couldn't have cared less for their viewing of his being 'ripped-a-new-one.'

This had been going on for now somewhere between ten or fifteen minutes. One of the Kings would often chip in and add a tidbit on proper handling of the situations given, or another would mention a prior instance where Naruto had less than successfully coordinated between them on a matter of importance. With Naruto silently grumbling how he didn't try to remember all of _their_ less-than perfect moments in the Underworld, only to be further lectured on his mumbling.

Now, usually, Naruto would admit that he enjoyed these kind of moments. Two girls, teenagers or children depending on how you viewed them, criticizing a former war hero and leader of an entire military and living community – that's funny.

It was fun, Naruto would admit. Like playing ninja with his grandchildren – it was all in the act which made it fun. The blond would whimper, keep his gaze to the floor, and occasionally cry crocodile tears at his being yelled at by his two oldest friends. He would beg for mercy, apologize thoroughly, prostrate himself to them and swear he would never make such a blunder again. When they were younger, Rias would relent and say Naruto had learned his lesson, offering him a hug. Sona would forgive him, but in her own, stern way.

And he was sure the two girls weren't intentionally mean in their scolding. They never hit him or hurt him. He could remember times in his youth where he would be roughed-up by one of his teammates for even just asking the wrong question. With his 'aunt' and her friend, the two seemed to follow an act to their 'disciplining' of Naruto as much as he took up the act of 'being-the-one-who-did-wrong-and-should-be-punished-thoroughly.'

It was almost a show, rather than a punishment. More for the enjoyment element of it happening, instead of the execution of penalties for minor faults.

And on any other day, Naruto would have acted out his part and amused the masses watching the three of them. On any other day, he would have remembered to pass along his message to Rias with issue of forgetfulness.

But today, Naruto was tired. And he just couldn't put up the act for them.

He sighed there on the couch, shaking his head as Rias and Sona began mentioning something which happened when he was _eleven_. They looked ready to go through his whole life of minor faults which, even if they only connected with his mistake today in the most minor of senses. But this time, before they could start up another riveting reminder that keeping one's word was an essential part of everyday life, their blond friend lifted a wearied hand in their direction.

It stopped and silenced them quite easily. Maybe because he never made such a move before? Either way, Naruto let out a tired sigh, looking up to the two with piercing blue orbs.

"Aren't you two going to figure out what to do this weekend?" He asked them. It seemed as if the reason for Sona's venture over had been forgotten in their little trial of their younger friend.

Rias actually looked a little surprised at Naruto, who sat quietly, looking between the two expectantly. He was right, of course. She knew this. Prideful though she might have been, Rias was able to acknowledge that, though ripping Naruto a new one was occasionally enjoyable, there were others in the room, waiting to get on with their evenings.

Rias exchanged a glance with Sona; her friend looking to be under the same impression. The crimson-haired young woman couldn't hold back the sheepish grin from crossing her lips, nor the sigh of resignation from their lecture. "I hate to admit it, but Naruto-kun has a point."

Sona nodded, amused. "It would certainly seem that way. Which is something I thought I would say only in my worst nightmares," Sona actually had a growing smirk cross her lips, with Rias joining in her teasing with a stifled laugh. The Peerages behind the two Kings, who were familiar with Naruto and his antics, tried to hold back amused smiles and laughs as Naruto pouted across from them.

_I have good ideas._ The former Hokage thought. _Sometimes._

"We have to stay focused on the matter at hand. The…'Familiar Master' will only take one of us to fulfill 'a contract sworn under the moon goddess herself,' as he so colorfully puts it."

Zatouji was a familiar associate to the Gremory and Sitri houses. He offered his services for free, but declared he would only assist one house at a time (something about every moon only accepting one King every month or some other cracked up reason or another). Of course, there was simply the matter of finding another individual who could perform the ritual of Familiarity, but both children of the Underworld knew that the best master around was undoubtedly Zatouji. His services in all manner of beast taming to breeding were second to none and sought after by many.

Quirks and all, the man had spent his life besting and understanding beasts of all types. One would do well to stick with him.

"This means we have decide on who will be selected. Do you have any suggestions on how we should do this?"

Naruto listened from his spot on the couch, watching the two girls begin their discussion and silently reminisce about the times before where the Peerages of Gremory or Sitri had need of Zatouji, the Familiar Master.

As Sona mentioned before, Rias had an oh-so unexpected wanting to visit the Familiar Forest whenever the Sitri Heiress expressed her own desire to visit. Now, being the respectful and courteous friend, Sona made sure to tell Rias whenever she had decided of a member of her Peerage had shown themselves capable enough of sustaining and hold a Familiar. She did not want to seem inconsiderate if by chance the two happened upon the same time wanting to have a member of their Peerages take on a Familiar of their own.

But, of the few times she told Rias of her plans, it would only just so happen the crimson-haired youth's Peerage would have a member who just fit her qualifications to holding a Familiar. During their times in the Underworld, Rias had only ever introduced Akeno to Zatouji and his forest. And even then, it had taken her several years before the King allowed her Queen to do so. Rias was a worrisome King; always worried if her members could handle the demands of holding a Familiar or not.

But in those times where the two girls had to decide on who would be allowed to meet with the Familiar Master, they always decided upon who would go by way of competition or game.

These challenges only happened twice.

Twice, the houses of Gremory and Sitri waged war (figuratively).

In their first matchup, sometime into their first year of high school, Rias and Sona battled alongside their Queens in a battle of epic, tennis proportions. Balls flew, threats were shouted, non-subtle uses of magic were flung with great tenacity. Naruto, and a large group of students who had been attracted to the bout between the academy's beauties, found themselves thoroughly entertained.

The match ultimately ended in a win for the Gremory girls, with the tennis court being shredded and burnt to unrecognizable degrees after. Naruto was still unsure how no one in the school caught on to their magic and powers.

The second matchup was held sometime during their second year. Rias and Sona had declared a swimming competition, with the fastest set of swimmers being declared the winners. Naruto was, regrettably, occupied with a bit of 'homework' (was in search of Greek goddess whose father desired her presence back home) and so could not make it to the event of that year. From what Naruto only heard, it seemed this challenge was just as popular as the one before; the school's male populace would not stop talking about it for several days after its completion.

Sona was victorious in this bout, which Naruto held little surprise towards. The girl was…adept when it came to aspects of the watery realm. The Sitri house was special in the makings of the ocean, as it so happened. Why Rias decided that a battle in water against a Sitri, of all things, was a fine idea Naruto would never know.

But all the same, the pool looked as destroyed and broken as the tennis court by the end of that day.

But now, a third competition was now being discussed. And it sounded just as worrisome to hear as one might imagine.

For when a Sitri and a Gremory go into battle, expect _ruin_ to follow in their place…

* * *

"How about dodgeball?"

Naruto had visions of the school's gymnasium falling to the ground.

"Nah, we don't have the members for that. Oh! How about baseball?"

A sudden image of the baseball fields being lifted into the air, flipped, then dropped like a sack of potatoes took hold of the blond's mind.

"Baseball isn't my cup of tea, I'm afraid. Hmm. How about running? First group to run a mile around the track wins."

The track and field was burning. And burning. And burning.

"Pass. Doesn't sound at all that exciting. Oh! Capture the flag! Around the _entire_ school! That sounds way more fun!"

Kuoh Academy. _Gone_.

"Hmm…maybe…how about tag?"

Their conversation continued like this for some time. Back and forth between ideas. Why one idea worked, why one didn't. Why this game would be fair, why this game wasn't fun. It was becoming a point where just convincing the other to agree to a challenge would be a victory in itself.

From behind the King's couch, Akeno and Asia quietly passed cups of tea and small cookies to everyone waiting. At some time between discussions on water polo and javelin tossing, the Gremory Queen and Bishop passed behind their leaders and towards the kitchens, working up a quick kettle of tea and warming a batch of sweets to be passed around to the two parties.

Both Peerages knew how stubborn and steadfast their Kings could be. Having small appetizers to bide the time was almost a requirement.

Naruto, for his part, was left out of the snack and drink exchange. Not that he minded much. His head was pulled back over the top of the couch, his arms stretched out and wide, and his eyes closed off to the world. Although he still casually listened to the Kings and their discussing, his mind drifted out and in between caring about their discussion (he almost choked on his own breath when the idea of a magic tossing contest at a tied up Uzumaki came up) and the need to sleep which begged to be embraced.

Sadly, years as a trained ninja had made even the most obtuse noises keep him awake.

However, at one point, his friend's conversation did take a turn towards an interesting idea around their Peerage's duties. 'Which Peerage could procure the most successful contracts in three days?' Obviously Rias was at a disadvantage, expressed as much, and then began to argue about alternative ways to using their Peerage in their little games. Everything from tug-of-war to mud-wrestling.

Naruto laughed then, reminded of how a certain young boy once made it a challenge for himself to perform his duties above and beyond the call of duty to surpass a certain jerk in his team. He remembered that kid thinking he could take on the world and do it all on his own. He remembered that blond idiot messing up more times than he could count.

There was a time he fell off a waterfall.

A time he took on one of the world's deadliest assassins to save a metal-plated headband.

And then, there was also the time he took on his sensei in a secret test to decide if he was ready to be a ninja. It was, admittedly, one of his more exciting moments in his youth. He remembered it like it was yesterday. A challenge unlike any other. The experiences alone were something to never be forgotten, and still brought smiles to his face. Like when he was tied to a tree, humiliated by beating himself up (don't ask), and even had a couple fingers shoved up his-

_Wait._

Naruto's eyes perked. Wide and alive.

His head slowly lifted from behind the couch, turning to look between the two girls who were now arguing about whether basketball was a fair sport or not.

He leaned forward from his couch. His gaze was unfocused, looking almost interested in a spot on the floor.

_Waaaaiit…_

He focused his eyes on the table in front of him. Then to the two Kings, arguing about the legality of underage gambling in Japan. Then to the girls and boys who made up the two Peerages behind them, smiling and enjoying their quiet party as their president and buchou worked around their issues to come to a solution on what exactly the two parties should do.

His mind was working. Tired though it was, it was starting to form a small plan.

A simple plan, really, but one which grew larger by the second. A plan which held his utmost interest.

And all the while, no one was aware of the way Naruto's eyes moved between them. With a growing smile finding its way onto his lips.

_See? I do have good ideas._

* * *

"I have a game we can play."

The soft voice rang out in the room, catching everyone's attention. The two Peerages turned their attentions away from the Kings, who they themselves were silenced by the voice to speak up over their discussion, and turned them back to the blond by the couch.

Naruto was smiling to them. Smiling calmly. And he looked far more awake and alive then he did the entire day.

Perhaps this should have been a warning to all parties.

Rias was the first to respond. "What was that? You have a game?"

Naruto's smile brightened a little more. "I have a game we can play." He repeated himself.

Now it was Sona's turn to ask. "What sort of game?"

"A game to settle on who's going to the get their Familiars this weekend." Naruto smile grew a little more, as the people in room grew a little curious.

"And what sort of game did you have in mind?" Sona asked, racking her brain to wonder what sort of thing the blond would conjure up to put her and Rias through.

Naruto's answer was a simple one. With a smile which grew into a large grin, the boy replied to his friend's question with only two words.

"Survival Training."

The room went quiet after that. It wasn't an answer any of the teens expected. Even Akeno, who usually smiled at strange disturbances or happenings, looked curious and puzzled by the blond's choice in game.

Rias was the first to speak up, looking skeptical at her nephew's choice in 'game.' "Survival Training?"

The former Hokage nodded. "Survival Training."

Sona shook her head. "How is Survival Training a game?"

"Or fun?" Rias added in. No point in having a challenge if they couldn't laugh about it afterwards.

Naruto only chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, I admit, I don't know if it'll be fun for you guys, but I can definitely say it will be a challenge." He said to them, before pressing himself from the couch and standing tall before the Devil in the room. His grin never wavered. "First, let me start with where my idea takes place," he pointed a single finger up to the ceiling, "I know this little place two miles past the highway on the north side. There's a clearing with a sakura tree in the middle. Nice area, solid breeze, great for picnics. I would like you all to meet me there this Saturday as five A.M., _sharp._ And trust me, you can't miss it."

He made that point clear. And it seemed his idea got everyone's attention, at least. So he continued, lifting another finger.

"Second: Rias, Sona, your Peerages are going to face off against a special opponent. Namely, _me._" Naruto silently appreciated the shocked looks of the people in the room. He spoke up before anyone could start arguing against him. "You'll be required to bring everything you would usually bring to train with. Weapons, equipment, magics – whatever you think you'll need to beat me. And I expect you all to come at me with, and I am not kidding here, the _absolute intention_ of _**destroying**_ me." His voice took a harsher edge to it, letting those in the clubroom understand he wasn't joking and allowing the implications of his demand to hang in the air.

Sona's Peerage began talking with themselves, sounding off put by the idea of fighting a human.

Akeno only smiled to him, keeping her thoughts hidden.

Kiba, in contrast to the others, had a rather hard expression as he stared directly at Naruto's grinning face. He understood the situation, better than most of the others. His fingers looked as if to be already searching for a weapon to draw.

Koneko stopped her snacking and gazed warily at Naruto. She was in a similar boat to Kiba.

Asia, bless her heart, was questioning with Sona's Peerage on the fairness of Naruto going up against them all. It seemed dreadfully unfair to her. And…she wasn't exactly wrong.

And all the while, the two Kings stared on to the boy. Quiet. Contemplative. Analytical.

Naruto was pleased, and so lifted a final finger.

"And third: don't consider this a challenge between just your two Peerages. You're going up against me. And if I win, I decide who does or doesn't go. And if I think Saji or Asia aren't ready to take on Familiars, then I am _more_ than willing to say that _neither of you_ are allowed to go meet Zatouji this weekend."

If his second rule caused a commotion, his third rule caused an uproar. But not by the Peerages, no. Instead, the two Kings rose from their seats, glaring at the blond in front of them.

"NO WAY!"

"NOT A CHANCE!"

"THAT COMPLETELY RUINS THE PURPOSE OF US COMPETING IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

"WHY SHOULD WE WORK FOR NOTHING IN RETURN?! THAT'S ASININE!"

Naruto kept quiet for a few moments, letting his two friends vent. He guessed he should have foreseen this sort of reaction. Rias and Sona were hardly children being offered an opportunity that had no choice but to accept. They were, by all accounts, adults in the world. They didn't need to follow Naruto's little game, unlike the blond in his own time.

And they did make good points. Several more even after their initial yells, in fact. But, in a moment of either sleep deprivated thinking or a blossoming genius that only came up with sleep deprivation, the Uzumaki teen felt he had a way to alleviate the tension between the himself and Devils.

He raised a hand up towards the shouting girls, no longer smiling or seeming amused over their yelling. His gaze was hard now, looking unquestioning and firm as he stared the two down.

"Let me finish." The human spoke up over the Kings' yelling. Tone hard and just a bit intimidating.

And indeed, the two Devils did quiet after a couple more seconds of expressing their thoughts. Rias' face still matched her hair and Sona looked ready to rip Naruto's world asunder, but the two quieted, at least. They didn't sit back down in their seats, however, deciding to instead meet Naruto's gaze standing and await his next words.

"I have a condition to add to the third rule. An _incentive_ to make this a little more interesting for the both of you." He paused himself, looking between the two girls. He never lost his smile, and seeing only the tiniest of signs of interest from the two made his next words all the more fun to convey. Though he felt the need to take something of a calming breath before spouting his next words. "To the winning group of my Survival Training, I've decided to grant a _single wish_ to their King." He smiled a little wider then. "Sound like fun now? Whatever your wish, if it is within my power to do so, I _will_ fulfill it to the best of my ability. I promise."

Naruto concluded his little game with those final words, putting his hands into his pockets and looking between the two Kings expectantly.

The Peerages stood idly behind the couch, looking over to their Kings. Rare were the times when they appeared speechless; so enveloped in Naruto's offer. And he promised, too! He said the _p-word_. That meant he was speaking the truth. And a wish – _any_ wish – they had, he would fulfill.

A Devil was not a Devil if they did not have desires, wants, and a selfish edge to their character.

And the two teens had plenty in spades.

Blank-faced and looking stunned, perhaps this offer seemed too good to be true for the Gremory and Sitri Heiresses. Their minds already began to wander the vast recesses of their desires. Considering and thinking and picturing whatever it was that they so wished. Ever. From the simplest want to the things which they dreamed about at night, the two were suddenly wrought with an overwhelming drive to consider each and everything that their hearts had even remotely considered wanting.

And for Rias, one wish spoke up above all.

It was a desire which she had held onto for many years. One Naruto was familiar with, but denied her every time she asked. She had challenged him, goaded him and begged for his acceptance to her wish. But he only told her no; saying he was quite fine as he was.

"Anything?" The Princess of Destruction asked, trying to keep her voice calm and in-control around the others watching.

It did little good; everyone could sense her anxiety.

She trusted her nephew, she truly did. But Rias had to be sure that what he offered was real and true.

Sona didn't say anything still. Perhaps Rias had conveyed her question for her. Or maybe her mind roared with possibilities on what she wanted then. It was not every day Naruto Uzumaki offered you anything. And being perfectly aware of just who they were speaking with made this 'wish' all the more tantalizing.

The Sitri Heiress never let her eyes leave the boy in front of her. Maybe she thought, should her eyes look away for even a moment, his offer would be broken or this would all be some dream. A cruel, evil dream.

She didn't look away from the boy. But she did allow herself to smile.

Naruto turned his eyes over to his aunt. Her one-worded question, thought spoken softly and clearly, rang loudly in the room for a lone moment.

Maybe he sensed what she was asking for; her eyes certainly gave away an idea of what her desires were, not that he didn't already have some thought on the matter. After all, what would the great Rias Gremory, heiress to a vast and grand house of the Underworld and a woman who could have nearly every want or wish she had in mind taken care of with but a few words, want from a man such as himself that she could not get from another?

He nodded to her, his grin failing only for a second, put off by the thought of what Rias was asking of him, but decided to remain true to his word.

"_Anything._"

Everyone could see the Lady Gremory's face brighten immensely to that one word. Her blue eyes flared with excitement and hope, her cheeks glowed red and lively, and an almost childlike enthusiasm rolled off her in great amounts. Her body shifted, as if wanting to dance around, but decided instead to grin as brightly and happily as her face would allow.

"Deal!" She shouted, nodding with confidence and enthusiasm before turning her eyes to her friend. Sona still seemed to be thinking it over. Or maybe thinking of the possibilities, it was difficult to say.

"I…I…" Sona found it difficult to speak. Her Peerage had never seen their leader in such a manner. Sona Sitri: calculative, calm, strong leader and future head of the Sitri household, was stuttering.

"Come on, Sona," Rias whispered beside her. Her excitement was almost the easiest thing to see in the whole room. "Come on! Say yes!" She urged her on. Her want of this was all too evident. Sona actually became worried, wondering if she looked similar or not.

"Well, Sona-chan?" Naruto spoke up again. "What do you say?"

The human teen was actually finding this all very amusing, offering a relaxed smile to the unsure Sitri. It had been some years since Sona turned into a stuttering, unsure shadow of herself while Rias lost all signs of composure and decided to enjoy the present moment like a child in a candy store.

Sona still did not answer for a moment. By her logic, there was only a chance to win in this circumstance. If she lost, she would only have to wait a month until she would be allowed to take Saji to the Forrest of Familiars. Not a bad downside, really. Sure, it would sting her pride to lose to Rias, but it was hardly something to worry about. And even the prospect of her challenging Naruto did not worry her as much as perhaps it should; they were friends, after all, and he never really struck her as one to go overboard in an attempt to harm his friends. And her Peerage was quite capable, if she would be so bold as to say. Enough to give her blond-haired friend a run for his money, she was certain.

By all accounts, there was a major gain to win – a Familiarity Contract and a wish from her capable friend – and only a minor price to pay should she lose.

The logic and math was there, but still she hesitated.

The reason was obvious, actually. Naruto's smile left her on edge. The way it twisted around his face – like a familiar cat in her favorite Charles Dodgson novel (his birthmarks not helping that image, in the least). The way it covered the lower part of his face but then stretched wide as if to say he knew something the others didn't. A fact which Sona never liked. Rare were the times where the child of Lucifer smiled in such a way. She could count them on one hand. And whenever the time came where that smile came into place, some unpleasantness or trickery soon followed. And it usually was to his amusement and everyone else's melancholy.

So yes. While Rias might have seen fit to put her hat into this competition without issue or regret, Sona allowed herself to hesitate-

"I accept."

-for a few moments longer.

Rias grinned only brighter at her friend's confirmation, with Naruto matching her excitement in a more controlled way. "Alright then," he said, "I guess all we have to do now is wait till-"

"Wait, hold on! I'm calling a timeout, here!"

Naruto actually turned his head to the origin of the noise. "Hmm? Yeah, what's up?"

Saji looked the blond human in the eye, pointing a finger to him. "What do you mean 'what's up?' This whole competition is-is-_ridiculous!_" He shouted in a voice most certainly not meant for the indoors. "How can you think to take on us all like that?! It's-it-IT JUST WON'T WORK! You're gonna get your ass-whooped, and then what?! Are we supposed to feel good about kicking some overconfident Devil's ass?!"

Naruto blinked at him. "Uh, actually, I'm not a Devil," he corrected, "I'm human."

Saji's uncomfortable expression only grew. "THAT'S EVEN WORSE!" The idea of having so many Devils against a single human seemed like a terrible one to him. Perhaps it was some lingering humanity that didn't want to dogpile a human so willingly? Or maybe the idea struck him as bullying?

Either way, Naruto tried to shake away the boy's uncertainties a smile and a worriless laugh. "Ah, don't worry about me! I'll be fine! I promise, you won't hurt me!"

Now Saji had an expression which seemed equal parts shocked _and_ aggravated. "And-AND WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!"

Naruto felt a somewhat childish pleasure at his mocking. _So this is what Kakashi-sensei felt like… _"Oh, nothing," he said to the boy, making his tone as casual and nonchalant as possible, which only spurred the newest member of the Student Council further, "nothing at all."

He stepped around the table separating the Devils and himself, silently amused by Saji's mutterings and cursing as his fellow council members tried to settle him down with little success. The former Hokage could feel several pairs of eyes on his back as he began to move towards the door to the clubroom, leaving his audience watching him as he went.

But Asia decided to speak up, then. "Wait, Naruto-kun, where are you going?" She asked, speaking up for the first time since Sona's Peerage arrived. Her roommate had never left the clubroom before she was ready. The action left her surprised.

Naruto had a calm smile on his lips as he turned his head around. "I need to go out and grab a few things. Need to be ready for the _big, scary Devils._" His tone was _absolutely_ _mocking_, no hint of worry to be found at the thought of taking on two Peerages worth of capable, adept Devils on his own. Although Saji made the most obvious face at being considered so casually by the blond in the room, the others held their thoughts on the matter to themselves. The Kings of the two Peerages eyed their friend warily and with narrowed eyes; knowing his capability and reputation, but having enough Devil Pride to not like being underestimated. "Remember! Five A.M., two miles north! Don't be late!"

Naruto gave a small wave to the party in the room, moving past Sona's less-than pleased looking Peerage and towards the clubroom's door.

"Oh, and I almost forgot! For next Saturday," The human teen spoke up again, pausing at the door and voice echoing loudly so everyone could hear, "I would _definitely_ skip breakfast if I were you."

Both Peerages and Kings stared idly as Naruto turned his head slowly back to the occupants of the room. His eyes were closed, his smile was pleasant, and this foreboding sense of absolute _dread_ oozed off his person.

"You'll regret it if you don't…you might even throw up…"

* * *

When compared to the rather exciting Monday, the rest of the week passed with relative ease for Naruto Uzumaki.

He went to class, he did his homework, assisted Asia in whatever she needed assistance in, and happened to be the watchful eye from across the road whenever the Bishop dealt with her clients – the same routines he had followed for around a month now. This pattern of work could be boring for the boy from time to time, but he did not complain. He performed a similar ritual of 'protective observation' with Rias and her Peerage on their first days out to support contractors. The nostalgia made him smile, and was further increased by thoughts of the coming weekend.

_How will they do?_ He wondered once or twice. Kiba and Koneko both fared well and with minor issue against the Rogue Exorcists at the church the month before. He was proud of them, in that way. Although the rogues may have been, but they were numbered in greater quantities and held quite a number of holy items. Their survival and victory spoke volumes of their skill and talent.

Not to mention the fact that Naruto had seen neither hair or sign of the Knight or Rook since leaving them the night he issued the challenge.

He could only assume this meant his words were being taken seriously.

Then there was Akeno, who would perhaps pose the greatest challenge of the small Peerage. The young Queen was something of a natural when it came to the magical arts; her skill was honed and pushed well beyond what most Queens would be capable of with decades or even hundreds of years of study and practice. Her usual showings of magic were flashy, destructive and handled with relative ease. Naruto often found himself impressed in the rare showings of her power, but also found he needed to remind himself that, behind her cheerful and nonchalant ways of dealing with the world's situations, Akeno was still a woman trained and fully capable of killing.

But if it wasn't her abilities which didn't give him reason to care for his wellbeing in the coming days, it was knowledge of her character that did.

In addition to finding a certain glee when it came to showing off her prowess for combat, the dark-haired young woman also seemed to have found a liking in showcasing her endurance and pain threshold. The ex-Hokage could honestly say he never met someone like her and was almost glad for that fact. The expression she made when Rias' Peerage had been sent to deal with their first Stray Devil…it wasn't psychotic as much as if she were finding her onslaught of magical attacks to be the most riveting experience of her life. Not to mention the Stray's screams only seeming to push her forward to some sort of emotional high.

Naruto wasn't sure what to make of it all. In a military mindset, this sort of behavior would require psychological evaluations and therapy to get to the root of. But this wasn't the military, obviously. And true, having known Akeno for years, the blond could safely admit that, beyond her obvious joy for going into battle and being dealt pain onto herself, Rias' Queen was a well-rounded and kind individual with a charming and wonderful personality. Being powerful, bright, caring and very helpful in all manners of the Gremory Heiress's life, Naruto would admit that Rias had chosen a fine and powerful Queen.

But still…the way her face lit up when she threw a bolt of lightning down onto that runaway…he made it a point to never piss her off.

And similar to Kiba and Koneko, Naruto found Akeno suspiciously unavailable during the week. The only time he'd seen her, she'd walked into the room to deliver a round of snacks and drinks to Asia, himself, and her King before leaving quickly to pursue some other mode of work she failed to elaborate on.

But Naruto noticed her. She hid it well, but he noticed the way her clothes held to her skin through a thin layer of sweat. How her hair was only just disheveled out of its usual style, suggesting it was tied quickly and without the usual care given to it. Even the way her hands gave a slight shake when she handed Rias a cup of tea was a signal to him; a sign of intense working out or, as was more likely the case, concentrated spell-casting.

He would have to keep an eye open for her.

And then, finally, there was Rias; physically, she was superb. Agile, lithe and with still enough build to hold her own in a fight. No one would not deny the evidence that a steady workout routine was followed rigorously. And although her abilities focused more on her demonic potential, that was not to say she needed to be unfit. Rather, her abilities required just as much physical training and excellence as they did mental. And where Akeno found excellence in all manners of magical manipulation and control, Rias had always found her power in the art of destruction and ruin.

And then came her abilities as King. She held the trust of her Peerage, the presence and tone of leadership, and a military-taught understanding of using one's surroundings to their advantage. She understood the strengths and weakness of those around her and worked mental strategies to best place her Servants in a way to optimize the best results. With a bonus happenstance of having any and all feelings of concern of dishonor towards the idea of using another's weaknesses against them thrown as far from her mind as possible from a very young age.

The education of the Gremory Household had not gone to waste with their Heiress.

Rias would not be worn down easily, and with her motivation and powers, she very well could be the most dangerous or wildest of Naruto's challengers. And with her entire Peerage at her command, she would spare no expense in seeing her nephew brought to heel. They would come at him with everything they had and more. And coupled with Sona's Council, for whom Naruto had little knowledge of their ability or strength, there might have been a challenge ahead for the Uzumaki.

The thought left his aged mind with a feeling like childish _glee_.

* * *

_Two miles north of the highway, Sakura Tree Clearing, nearing five A.M._

The clearing was quiet as the first students arrived onto its open field.

Of course, maybe to no one's surprise, Rias and Akeno walked casually first into the area, looking relatively rested and pleasantly pleased as they did so. Rias held the largest and most expectant smile between them, while Akeno only stood by her side and awaited the arrival of the others. Instead of their usual school uniforms, both had opted for a more comfortable, athletic-fit attire of sweats and loose jackets. Although it was nearing summer, the early morning air was still frigid and chilled, making their warmer choice in attire very appreciated.

The two took in the dew covered area then sat under the sakura tree, which offered a pleasant spot to wait under its fully bloomed leaves.

The next to arrive was Sona, but unlike Rias, she had opted to bring along her entire Peerage at the same moment. Whether this was meant to intimidate her friend and opponent or not was difficult to say, but Rias certainly felt amused by her appearance, trading a few quips and barbs at the other having the guts to show up.

Sona only showed mild amusement to her friend's cracks. She, like Rias, Akeno, and the rest of her Peerage, decided for a more physical, form-fitting choice in clothing, with a few of her members carrying items and belongings that were of some obvious importance to them. After their small greetings, the student council walked a small distance away, speaking in quiet whispers while a few members began pointing and motioning to spots around the area.

The Sitri's strategizing was in full motion.

But Rias wasn't worried, especially as her Knight and Rook entered the clearing. Kiba offered his friends and fellow club members a friendly wave, while Koneko repeated the gesture with held back yawn. The younger girl was a sleeper, Rias knew, and so insisted that Kiba assist in her waking. It seemed the order was well-made, as the ashen-haired teen walked towards the tree her King and Queen were using for cover, plopped herself down by its side, then comfortably fell into a dreamless sleep.

Rias allowed it, gently brushing her hair as she rested before speaking softly on what moves the three still-awake members of her Peerage would have make when their blond friend made his appearance.

It was nearly five minutes before five when Asia arrived at the clearing. This wasn't odd or strange, but the lack of her roommate's presence was met with quizzical looks.

"Um, Naruto-kun said he would be around soon," the Bishop told her King. "He-he was just getting a few things ready before I left. I'm sure he'll be here soon!"

Rias nodded, her mood not dampened and decided to begin relaying her plans and thoughts on their surroundings before his arrival.

And all the while, she smiled and looked as if it were her birthday.

* * *

_Same location, 5:37 A.M._

Sona lifted a curious brow as her eyes took in the small specs of the sun rising over the edge of the surrounding woods. Her hand went to the edges of her outfit, lifting a bit of cloth to reveal a small wristwatch.

Her eyes narrowed at the time.

"He's late," she said, mostly to herself, while her council began to sit or stand idly around the grassy area. Some looked over the area, looking for the teen boy, while others had begun to laze about quietly in the grass. It was not commonplace for any of them to be awake at such an hour, and a few of her Peerage looked certainly unused to this hour of the day.

Saji was one of the few still standing. Her newest pawn was unquestionably the most eager of her Peerage – besides herself, of course – to do combat with Naruto. His pride was still wounded by being considered so half-heartedly, it seemed, and appeared ready and willing to prove wrong in his assessment.

His King could only give a small smile at his enthusiasm, crossing over to him. "You should relax," she told him, drawing his attention from the woods. "You'll need your head on straight if you want to beat someone like Naruto."

The taller boy shook his head. "I'm fine, Sona-san. I need to keep my head in the game," he turned his head back to the woods. "I'll show him. I swear, when I get my hands on him, Naruto Uzumaki won't know what hit him!" He made punching motions into the air, looking inspired at the idea of his defeating the human.

Sona watched him from the side. His enthusiasm was…endearing, she guessed. But she frowned all the same. "We'll take him _together_," she told him, her attitude towards him becoming harder and uncompromising, "don't do anything stupid, Saji. Naruto isn't the kind of guy you take on without a plan."

Her pawn recognized her tone as one not to be argued with, softening his expression and smiling sheepishly. "Ah, right. Um, sorry," Saji apologized, "I'm just excited, is all."

"And that's fine. Keep that feeling. But _stick_ to the _plan_. One careless factor could put not only yourself, but the _entire_ Peerage in jeopardy." The Sitri King adjusted her glasses over her face. Just around the edges, her gaze appeared frosty and cold. An unspoken warning towards her naïve Pawn. "_Do I make myself_ _clear_?"

Gulp. "…C-crystal…"

* * *

_Same location, 6:12 A.M._

Everyone in the Gremory Peerage laid by the sakura tree. It wasn't able to offer much in the way of shade, with the sun only just making its way of the tree line, but it had its comfort to it. Birds and other animals were loudly making their ways through the morning, the sounds of crickets and other insects slowly losing their volume over them.

There was a peace to it, in a way. Koneko was still able to sleep under the noise.

Kiba had begun to look disgruntled with the lack of happening in the area, bring out his phone several times to check the time, before letting out a long sigh and turning to Asia. "Uh, Asia-san? Did Naruto give _any_ indication when he would be here?"

He asked the question on everyone's mind. "Ah, no. I'm afraid he didn't." Asia said, looking almost apologetic about it.

Kiba frowned, turning to Akeno, who had her phone pressed to her ear. "Anything?"

Akeno moved the phone from her ear, shaking her head. "Sorry, Kiba. Naruto-kun just isn't answering my calls." She lost track of how many times she'd called, but she guessed it was maybe ten or so times now. Sona herself had taken some time to make a few calls, each ending the same way. It was the only conversation either Peerage had in the area, with each unanswered call only pushing the morale of the teams further down.

Even Rias was starting to look put off by the lack of blond.

"Should we…go looking for him?" Asia asked, stifling a yawn and looking with tired eyes to her King.

Rias had considered it, thinking that it would not be some great sacrifice to send Asia back to her apartment to check. But her eyes always lingered to the Sitri team during such moments.

None of Sona's team looked ready to leave. They were laying around, relaxing on the grass.

She took note of their superior numbers and shook her head. "We'll wait," Rias told them, "Naruto should be here soon. He just…his phone probably died or something. He'll be here. I know he will."

* * *

_Same location, 7:21 A.M._

"…I swear, _ten minutes._ I can go find Naruto, grab him, and be back here _easy_."

A reddish-brown haired young woman stared intensely into Sona's eyes, lifting ten fingers up to her as if it would assist in her explanation. The girl's expression was intense as she waited expectantly for an answer, even as the King raised a single, slender brow to her.

In the time passed since arriving at this spot, Sona had considered sending someone to venture forth and retrieve the rather absent boy. She'd considered it long before this moment.

Maybe her youngest Pawn? She was usually chipper and would enjoy the exercise and reason to move around. Or her Knight, the one who was speaking to her now, would make quick work of reaching Naruto's apartment in short order. Or she could have developed her own means of teleportation and appeared out the boy's apartment, if needed. Although the magic took time to prepare, and even her Bishops still needed work on their development of them, Sona was well-versed in space alteration magic. It would have been little trouble to her.

But then, Sona would cast her gaze over to her opponent's side. And while indeed, the obvious numerical advantage was to her benefit, Rias' Peerage certainly held more experience and expertise than her own. If she were to stand a chance against such experience, she would require every bit of strength her Peerage held, and even a single member missing in a crucial moment could tip the scales in her opponent's favor.

If Naruto arrived just as one of her Servants went away to look for him, it would cut her Peerage's fighting ability. Maybe just enough to mean defeat.

"That won't be necessary, Tomoe." Sona told the young girl – Tomoe Meguri, her Knight – calmly. "Naruto will be here soon, I'm sure of it. I wouldn't put it past him to be preparing something for us at this very moment…"

She told her this, but didn't look so sure. And Tomoe, although looking ready to argue, relented and backed off towards her previous spot. She didn't seem to have the energy to argue, maybe because of sleep her lack of breakfast, her King couldn't be sure. She had opted to forego breakfast, herself, deciding it would not do well for the Sitri heiress to…to _puke_ in front of her friends and peers.

She felt confident in herself, though. A little missed breakfast wouldn't be a problem. She'd gone to school several times before without sustenance and had functioned just fine-

_Grrrrrrrrrrr…_

…She hoped no one heard that…

* * *

_Same location, 7:53 A.M._

Koneko lifted herself carefully from the ground. Her mouth opened in a small yawn, raising a small hand to her eyes and wiping away dry rheum from them. She felt her stomach ache with emptiness, now somewhat cursing herself for not giving her friend's warning the finger and eating a pancake or five that morning. But Kiba had to remind her of Naruto's warning, and she reluctantly agreed that she did _not_ feel like throwing up on a weekend.

Still huddled by the tree, Koneko looked over to her friends, who glanced over to her with what seemed to be forced smiles.

This made her curious enough before she took in the area around herself.

"…Where's Naruto?"

* * *

_Same location, 8:34 A.M._

"**AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHH!** WHERE THE HELL IS HE?!" Saji yelled out to the clearing, not caring if anyone would respond to him or not. Birds in the nearby trees stirred and flew off in fright, with the forests around quieting around him.

Both Peerages looked over to him, but barely acknowledged his shouts. Many were wondering the same thing, but hesitated to voice it themselves. Maybe because of some sense of pride or personal reputation or even due to the collective lack of energy around them. The waiting alone was proving a truer hassle to the psyches of the King's and their Peerages than they believed their challenger could have ever presented to them.

The morning was starting to warm up, the light breeze passing through was well-liked, but this lack of entertainment or happenings was boring to the teens. Many had hoped to be moving and fighting by now; maybe even finished and preparing the rest of their days ahead.

There is a saying that 'there is nothing more dangerous than a teen with too much free time' but it seemed more true to say 'nothing is more detrimental to a teen than too much free time.'

Still, whatever the saying was, no one looked happy with their over _three-and-a-half hours_ of waiting.

Saji fell to the ground after, losing much of his temperament and now looking a bit miserable in his spot. He grumbled to himself, pulling at a few pieces of grass and letting it flow in the wind, slowly, before letting out a long, tired sigh.

_Grrrr…_

"…_Shit_…this is so _stupid_. And…I am _sooo_ hungry..."

* * *

_Same location, 8:52 A.M._

Naruto entered the clearing with a greeting wave of his hand. "Hey guys! Good morning!"

"YOU'RE LATE!"

"WHERE WERE YOU?!"

"WHAT THE HELL, NARUTO?!"

Naruto raised a casual hand behind the back of head, laughing almost regrettably. "Sorry I'm late. I was on my way when I just happened to get lost on the path here. I was trying to find my way back when I happened to come across a rather lovely walkway through a nearby park. And, well, I do like my walks. So I guess I just lost myself to my thoughts before remembering I had to meet you guys here…"

He offered something that looked like a pleasant smile to them. But his charm was met with…well…

"I'm going to gut him." A girl in Sona's Peerage growled out. "I am going to gut him with a goddamn smile on my face."

"I'll hold him down."

"I'll supply the _tools_…"

The amount of malevolence, mixed with some seeping levels of Demonic energy from certain teens, was a bit worrying at a glance.

"Uh, yes, well…" Naruto continued to smile but it looked forced and a bit sheepish to everyone, "maybe we should get started then, hmm?" He made his way towards the tree at the center of the clearing, ignoring to the best of his ability the openly hostile looks he was receiving from his associates and friends alike.

It was only as he passed by the two Peerages that anyone really took notice of the blond and his choice of clothing; tanned shorts, light-orange hoodie, and wrapped around his shoulder was a duffle bag. It was decently sized and filled with several somethings poking out at its sides. His choice in clothing, casual and bright, was curious enough. Surely, he wouldn't be able to move well in such an outfit. But the thick bag at his side is what really made the surrounding teens curious.

Naruto either didn't notice or care at the eyes around him, lowering his large bag to earth and undoing the zipper.

The effect was almost immediate.

From the zippered confines of the bag, a strong aroma of cooked meats, vegetables, spices and various other _wonderful_ scents seeped out and around. The glorious smells swarmed the bag, filling the air with an unearthly warmth and almost making the area around it seem brighter and lively. The several pairs of eyes widened around the bag, scrambling and looking closer into the bag to see what could possibly make such a wonderful fragrance.

They imagined it was food of some sorts. And they weren't entirely wrong.

Instead of food, plain to see, there stood several boxes, tied together in a ribbon and stacked together in three rows.

_Bentos_, as they were known as by the Japanese people. The secret boxes of delicious goodness, revered by the masses. Even behind their closed confines, such a smell could pass out to the people around.

It made mouths _water_.

_**GRRRRRRRRR…**_

No one seemed to care whose stomach – or stomachs, as was more likely the case – growled then. Even the usually calm or nonchalant were finding the sight almost majestic in its wonder. Like tiny treasure chests inside a larger, admittedly uglier-looking chest, its prizes and worth hidden from the normal eye.

Who knew skipping breakfast could be so…disheartening.

Naruto, again, by either simple unawareness or choice, did not acknowledge the looks around him. Reaching into the side of the bag, at the corner of the boxed foods, the blond procured a small, black device and lifted it out from the bag.

A clock, as was obvious by its design, with the two ticking hands and the large bell on its top. Those around were curious as Naruto looked it over, smiling and twisting a small knob on its back a few times and producing a steady, loud clicking noise began to then rise from its behind.

Looking pleased, Naruto put the timepiece down to a small part of the tree. Then, with a few low groans from the teens, he zipped the duffle bag shut, cutting off the tempting smells.

"Alright. We're ready." He told the group, turning to address them. He stood tall, looking fit and ready, contrasting to the peers around them. Reaching into the hoodie's small pocket, Naruto procured a pair of small spheres, tied by small pieces of strings.

Those around him looked curiously at the two balls, before the blond gave them a light shake.

The two gave off a light ring.

"Bells!" Asia shouted, surprised. The others came to the same conclusion, staring at the two silver bells now with further curiosity.

"That's right, Asia. What I have here are two bells. And your job is to take these two bells from me before noon." He lowered the bells to the waist of his pants and, with a quick twitch of his fingers, managed to tie them both loosely to a strap. "The team which can't take a bell by noon will get no lunch," the eyes looked to the bag, then back to the blond as he lifted a free hand and gave a light pat to the sakura tree behind him, "and, I will _personally_ tie the failing team _to this tree_."

Eyes widened at this part of the declaration. And Naruto's pleasant smile turned a bit wicked.

"_And_ I will eat my lunch right in front of you. Because I _can_. Both Peerages need to only get one bell to avoid being tied to the tree. Are we clear on that?"

Everyone nodded, like children in school. This game of his was sounding…interesting, if nothing else.

The teenage minds of the Devils were making sense of the game, when one of them had a curious question come to their mind. "Wait, Naruto-kun," Rias spoke up, "what happens if we both get a bell?"

Saji caught on to her question. "Yeah, that's right! Who wins then?"

All eyes went back to Naruto, who shrugged. "Simple. I do."

"SAY WHAT?!"

Naruto actually laughed a little. "Yeah. That's one of the only ways I can win. That and keeping both bells." He pointed a finger to Rias. "The only way you can win is if you get one or both of the bells, and Sona's Peerage doesn't get anything. Similarly, if Sona gets one of the bells, or both, and you fail to retrieve one, then _she_ wins." His finger turned to point at Sona. "However, if both you _and_ the other Peerage holds a bell by the end, then _neither_ team wins." He paused for a second, and shrugged again. "Or loses, I guess. But I would consider it my win by default."

"But, then, if no one wins or loses," a silver-haired girl from Sona's Peerage spoke up, "who goes to the Familiar Forest? Who gets a Familiar?"

Sona and Rias, together, voiced a question of their own. "_Who wins the bet?_"

Naruto stared down to the staring, quizzical eyes around him. They all appeared expectant, waiting for his answer.

The young man could only let out a long sigh, shaking his head, and looking almost as tired as those around him. "What, I wasn't clear? If no one wins, _no one_ gets what they want. If I'm not impressed with either team then there will be no Familiar Forest, no Familiar, and definitely no_ wish_. Do you _understand_?"

* * *

There was a light horror, now, on the Kings' faces. The blond's words were not minced. They were uncompromising. Almost cruel.

Gone were the usual, joyful blond. And now, this Naruto, who they'd never seen before, had taken his place.

And it seemed the Peerages reflected similar feelings.

"Hey, hey, come on guys! Relax!"

Or, at least for the most part.

"We haven't lost yet! We can still do this!" Saji was the first to speak up over the downtrodden looks, raising himself high and looking to his friends and, admittedly, associates-who-were-also-presently-enemies. "He's one guy! _We're _an entire Peerage. Two of them! We'll just…_dogpile_ him and we'll get those bells, no sweat!" He finished his rallying speech with a thrown fist into the air, smiling widely as if he wasn't one of the many who looked ready to grovel at the bag of food before.

And actually, for a moment, it seemed to relieve some of the tension in the Peerages. And for a small, brief instant, it looked as if he were able to build the morale, even a little, back into the teens.

It was a nice moment.

Then Naruto shook his head. "I wouldn't be speaking so loudly, if I were you. New Pawns should remember why they're the _lowest pieces_ in every Peerage."

Okay, _now_ he was being cruel.

Everyone stared between the two blonds. Sona's Peerage began to glare, aggression now taking over their former fears and uncertainties. Even Sona had a rather nasty look come across her eyes, pointed towards the orchestrator of this little challenge. Rias and her Peerage, knowing the boy better than almost everyone from Sona's Peerage, could only wonder just who was talking through their friend. Never, not even during times where they were tasked with facing Strays, had Naruto Uzumaki acted in such a way.

No sign of joking or good humor.

That sort of sight was _unnerving_ on someone like Naruto.

They decided they didn't like it.

And with Saji, well…it was something of a point of pride for himself to be one of Sona's Pawns. He took the position with some measure of self-confidence and joy, knowing it was the lowest part in the totem pole of the Peerage system but never let it bother. Devils long before him had managed to raise themselves from the lower ranks to positions of power and reputation. And, like most pawns, a part of him wanted to show his worth. To rise up in the hierarchy.

Before his resurrection, Saji was made aware of this system and where he would stand in the grand scheme of the Underworld. And though he hid his feelings behind a smile and never told aloud how he felt on such a system, to be told he would begin so low and be considered so insignificantly, had bothered the young man. He did not want his new King to think less of him for being so downtrodden by his small feelings.

But his King was wise. She knew how he must have felt. She did have a Pawn before him, and had discovered how the usual newly made Pawn reacted to such news. And so she confessed, after his resurrection and to his great wonder and enjoyment, that he himself had taken, not one, but _four_ of his King's precious Pawn Evil Pieces. A rare thing to occur, which signified a new Devil's inner potential.

To Saji, being told this had nearly brought him to tears. To be told he had worth by someone he admired deeply.

It had honestly been one of the best days of his life.

But now, this guy, who dismissed him and threw mud at the thing which gave him pride, thought he could do away with his words without quarrel or issue. Just like that!

The lone male council member would not take this insult, reaching his left arm out and pointing it towards Naruto. "That's it! You asked for this! Absorption Line, set up!"

The air around Saji's hand shimmered and twisted with a violet glow, compressing the light to the middle of his hand before it twisted into a blackish form of sorts. The light continued to encase itself further around this developing black form, growing and developing ridges and features that were too precise to simply be coincidental. It wrapped around its creator's hand, forming an almost gauntlet around the hand. Around its top, just by the knuckles of the hand, a small opening like a mouth formed, with a pair of violet pearls developing just above it all, looking as if they were a pair of eyes. And once the formation and violet light had dissipated, and the black form stopped in its growth on his hand, something which resembled a baby lizard had effectively bonded himself to the hand.

This was a Sacred Gear. The recognized Black Dragon's Pulse.

_**Absorption Line.**_

Naruto regarded this transformation of Saji's arm with a raised eye. Said boy proceeded to bring his now geared arm back, appearing as if readying himself to punch the air. "Now, Absorption Line! Atta-!"

_FWOOSH!_

"Okay, okay, let's settle down now."

Saji actually stopped in his motion. Not because of the other blond's words, those wouldn't have stopped him then. No, instead his hand, his stature, and even his head were suddenly rendered motionless by what felt like two iron claws grabbing his geared arm and head. He could feel the rough skin of fingers in his hair, uncomfortable and uncompromising in their hold. And his hand was no different, except it had now been twisted around to have placed the mouth of Absorption Line close to where the back of his head was.

He couldn't even turn his eyes around, try as he might for a few seconds. The fingers were constricting and infallible in their hold. But he knew that the voice of Naruto Uzumaki was definitely coming from right behind him.

One moment, he was in front of him, standing under the tree.

The next, he had effectively rendered the Pawn of the Sitri Household helpless.

_H-how? How did he – he was so FAST! _The Sacred Gear user actually felt what he could imagine was what people called 'a cold sweat' slowly make its way down his brow.

Naruto actually let out what sounded like an annoyed sigh behind him. "Would you slow down for a moment…we haven't even started yet." His nonchalant way of talking still made the whole moment twice as unnerving for those around him. As if this circumstance were common occurrence.

To his credit, though, Naruto actually did turn his eyes around the small place and look to the group of teens.

Kiba had his eyes wide and watching. He probably only just managed to keep an eye on Naruto. Koneko, who usually looked so uncaring to a situation, now had her stance widened and looked ready for combat. Akeno didn't appear too unperturbed but had lost her friendly features watching him. One of her hands was flat palmed and, though not too noticeably shown, shined quietly with power. Rias didn't seem to believe Naruto's words or actions still, but looked about a second away from ordering him to release her friend's Pawn.

And Asia…her face was just full of worry. For both of the blonds, it seemed.

And that was to say nothing of Sona or her Peerage. Friend or not, the Sitri King was not so weak-willed as to allow someone in her Peerage be hurt if it was uncalled for. And although Saji had made the first move, she didn't expect Naruto to be phased by her newest member's still growing power. To cause him injury would have been excessive. And that said nothing of her peers, whom looked just as ready to make a move should Naruto pose a threat to their fellow council member and friend.

It was almost touching. But everyone's faces had something else in common that Naruto noticed easily.

Everyone looked nervous and unsure of what would happen next. Not quite scared or afraid but definitely conscious of what was happening in front of them.

Naruto Uzumaki, placing the attack-point of Saji's Sacred Gear, to Saji's head. Pointblank.

…_Maybe I went a bit far here…_

Naruto was actually starting to feel bad. Sure, he expected and was trying to get this kind of reaction out of the boy, like how he got a reaction from his old sensei. At the time, the show of ability and speed seemed almost cool and showcased that the man was not to be taken lightly. Truly worthy of his high rank and position.

But Naruto was mentally smacking himself for not remembering the abrupt fear he felt towards his sensei when he handled his aggressiveness with a very similar motion to what he just used. The knife to the back of his head, to the soft part of the skull, and the way he was handled as if he were little more than a child throwing a fit (which he kinda was, by his embarrassed admittance, but that was beside the point). And although he tempered that fear well after and managed to fight without hesitation, it was mostly out of the consideration that his sensei wouldn't likely kill him.

Did the Devils know he had no intention of doing harm to them? That _they_ were meant to attack _him_ with the intention to kill and not the other way around?

Now, mind you, he didn't feel _all_ that bad about what he did. He certainly didn't have any intentions to hurt the boy. And, for the most part, he was planning to take this day as if it were a small game. Like when he messed with his grandkids while they spewed fireballs and threw sharpened tools at his head – he could handle them just fine without any real concern, got a small workout for his troubles, and enjoyed his time with each of them.

But the teens weren't his kids, grandkids or ninjas in-training. They were teens. Devils, yes, but still mostly teenagers and even former _human_ teenagers who'd more than likely never seen any real combat in their short lives.

So the former ninja decided that, _maybe,_ he needed to fix this.

"_Buuuut_," Naruto started, loosening his grip from the back of Saji's head and hand and stepping away from him in the hopes of cooling the increasingly tense air coming from the boy's Peerage. Saji's instinct was to moved away from his handler quickly before turning back to the boy, still shocked at being handled so easily. But before a sense of defeat or weakness could set itself inside himself, the human boy put on a genuine, almost kind smile to his face, catching his former captive's attention, "You _did_ have the right temperament there. I can respect that." Naruto slowly slid his hands into his jacket's pocket, a non-threatening or aggressive gesture, and actually let off a small laugh, "Hmm…well, what can I say? Maybe Sona-chan really did choose a good Pawn, after all."

He offered a casual shrug, as if he weren't sure himself, and left it at that.

Moving away from the tree and past the two groups – while sending what he hoped came off as a quick apologetic grin to the Sitri party – Naruto moved to stand some ten feet from his friends and now challengers. He didn't notice Saji's look, for which the male council member was silently grateful for, as he looked to be embarrassed by the boy's the secondhand compliment.

But the shocked expression was gone now. And Genshirou Saji looked ready for a fight.

The former Ninja gave a look to the forests around him, checking out the area he had to work with before turning back to the teen Devils. "Okay, no more waiting around! Are we doing this or not?!"

His yell was meant to enthuse the two groups, and it seemed it worked. Suddenly, both Peerages were looked hard and ready as they stood on opposite sides of one another. A few crept away and further towards their prospective groups, eyeing the other carefully with sideways glances towards the lone ninja.

The human teen raised his hand to the sky.

"Everyone, get ready!"

Sona's Peerage got into several stances. One young woman – the previously mentioned Tomoe Meguri –procured a long, slender sword from a long sheath at her side; a long, double-edged blade which shined under the day's sun. Another of the girls pulled out what looked like a short sword attached to a black staff, twisting the weapon around herself before pointing it downward at an angle towards Naruto's person. Saji already had his Sacred Gear ready and pointed forward, aimed still at Naruto but not looking nearly as fierce or troubled as before. And several other members procured floating sigils and magical formations around their hands or person, with Sona herself holding a pair of large, intimidating sapphire-colored glyphs almost half the size of her person.

"And…"

Rias' Peerage followed suit. Kiba placed his hand to the earth below him, causing the soft soil to glow brightly. From the ground rose a long, black-edged katana, which he himself pulled forth quickly, gave a few practice swings with, and readied himself into a stance. Koneko, looking steely-eyed, pulled a familiar pair of black, fingerless gloves from her pockets and fastened them to her hands tightly. Asia, not one for combat, stepped back and away from the others. Akeno, like those from Sona's Peerage, had erected a few golden sigils around her person, smiling almost wickedly as she looked over her opponents. And as for Rias, her person glowed with blood-red power, compressing itself around her hands and looking almost as if it desired nothing more than to destroy _anything_ its conjurer wished.

Naruto looked back to the two group, now ready, and threw down his arm.

"**BEGIN!**"

* * *

**And done!**

**Thirty-three-thousand not so easy words to put together (plus a thousand in author notes)!**

**Only took me half-a-year or so to finish!**

**So, let's see what's happened in that time: **

**Bleach**** ended (my Ichiruki pairing part of my soul is crying).**

**Boruto**** has a new series (still trying to work my head around the canonicity of this story and the Boruto story, I'll keep people posted on that).**

**We're still working on the President part of the United States (holy crap, I am **_**NOT**_** going near that with a ten-foot pole).**

**Watched and read ****Gate: Jieitai Kano Chi nite, Kaku Tatakaeri****. And I recommend it to people who don't think too much on it. Otherwise, you realize (and I apologize for this rant, I feel I'm better than this) that the author's a hypocritical, pro-militaristic over-patriot who only thinks Japan is good and every other big name country is evil. Seriously not kidding here, great and fun series, but the author is a bit of a right-wing nationalist with his story and his extreme pro-Japan idealisms you can see in the reading (which makes sense, as most author's ideals and beliefs can be found through reading their work). It can get a little unnerving and irritating. The author has a talent for words, I'll give him that, and it really is fun to read the manga or even watch the lighter anime, but suspend your brain's careful thinking on the matters. Otherwise, it can be off-putting for foreigners.**

**Dragon Ball Super**** is a thing. Has been for a while, but decided to binge watch the episodes recently after the show picked up. And…I think I'll just stick with Funimation's Dragon Ball Z or Kai from now on. Super just doesn't appeal to me (may be the Japanese voices, you just can't beat the dubbed voices in this case).**

**Almost time for ****Doctor Strange**** (please don't mess this up, please don't mess this up, please don't mess this up…)**

**I discovered the Bleach (S), SAO and How to be an Adventure Abridged series (HIGHLY RECOMMEND THEM, FIND THEM ON YOUTUBE NOW).**

**Tigers are making a comeback in population numbers (good for them, favorite animal here).**

**Pokemon Go**** made me get fit (TEAM VALOR, BABY!).**

**And I've started writing my own book, online comic and cartoon script. Just wanted to see if I could, plus I would love a writing position for something in the future (as would every other fanfiction writer, I'm sure). Will be posting the comic on deviantart, with a link to it on my page as soon as I get a few pages done.**

…

…

…**I think that's most of the cool stuff I care about.**

**Pointless drabble to others. Me? I am pleased.**

**Sorry for the long A.N.**

**Anyway, as a favor, please tell me what you thought of this chapter either through review or PM, if you prefer. I ****TRIED**** to take your words and considerations, harsh though some may be, in so that I could improve as a writer. With the detail in my last two chapters being difficult for some (I WARNED YOU! I WARNED YOU IT WOULD BE HARD!). **

**I am a detailed person, but I can see how reading so much detail can hurt the eyes. Especially with how FF makes you read stories (prefer iBooks myself, in that regard) so I will try to aim for less detail when I can. **

**I make **_**no**_** promises, however.**

**Now, with that said, a little snippet of the next chapter.**

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…

…

**_Next Time on The Beast of Gremory:_**

**_Naruto finds himself pressed against the full might of two very determined Peerages. Can he handle the pressure?_**

**_Fights will be fought, insults will be thrown, and…is that FLIRTING?!_**

**_Who will win the right to a Familiar? Who will win the bet for one wish?!_**

**_It's a Peerage vs Peerage vs Uzumaki Showdown! And it's gonna be goooooood!_**

**_Find out what happens next in the second chapter of Book 2:_**

'_**God's Got One Hell of an Alarm Clock!'**_

**SEE YOU SOON!**


	9. God's got one Hell of an Alarm Clock pt1

**I said I could get the next chapter out before Christmas so BAMB! Here's one before Thanksgiving!**

**Damn, I'm good!**

* * *

CHAPTER TWO: GOD'S GOT ONE HELL OF AN ALARM CLOCK PART 1

_Lucifer Mansion, The Underworld, Ten Years Ago…_

Grayfia Lucifuge found her mornings to have turned rather stressful in the last year.

Every morning, the Queen of Lucifer would wake before the sun had risen, dress herself in the attire she felt most comfortable in, give a light awakening to her lord husband before heading towards the kitchens. Like always, she was met with greetings from the kitchen staff, who were likewise awake and readying themselves for their daily preparations, offering only a curt nod before starting over to the kitchen's head chef to discuss her beloved and child's meals for the morning. After, she would deliver her first meal to her husband, sharing a small breakfast alongside him as he voiced his duties for the day and share in light conversation. He would ask her about the world, her duties or wants for the day, but most often would ask about their child and how he was doing. It was a pattern fulfilled for many years and one which neither could actually claim issue towards.

But those responsibilities were hardly what she would call demanding.

Actually, it was what came after these pleasant mornings which made the Lady Lucifuge feel a migraine coming on.

With her duties for her lord complete, at least for the present time, Grayfia would return to the kitchens to procure her son's meal and deliver it to the main dining hall. The child would argue, now and then, that a meal in bed worked fine for him, but Grayfia wouldn't have it. She was his mother, and she would be damned if she neglected to teach him etiquette. Eating a full breakfast, with plenty of vitamins and nutrients on a tabled setting, seemed like a good place to start.

Daily, the lady of the house would knock on her child's bedroom door, beckoning him to rise and prepare himself for the day. "Naruto, it is time to wake." She would call out, and usually be met with a responsive grunt or mumbled confirmation from the other side.

In the past, the promise of food would awaken the boy quite easily. And he was always grateful and eager for his meal. But as of late, once Grayfia called for Naruto to rise, all she was met with was silence.

The first instance this occurred, when the Queen found her child missing, she went on what her lord husband would only call a 'mildly destructive' search for her missing baby. Sirzechs would defend her aggressiveness at the time, of course, by pointing out that the study was now finished with its repairs, the east wing had most of its littered pieces of chipped wood and marble cleaned from the floors and ceiling, and the damage done to the mounted grey wyvern head actually made the once terrifying beast look quite humorous and made his son laugh, so it all worked out in the end.

Grayfia knew better than to react now, and when she knocked on the door that morning, she held little surprise to hear a lack of response or answering to her beckons. She opened his bedroom door and took a quick glance inward, checking to see if, just maybe, Naruto had simply misheard her or not responded as quickly as he would usually. But as expected, her son was nowhere in his room.

Which meant, as was the case for several months now, he was probably with _him_.

* * *

"Argh! Hrah! HAA! Yeh-yah-HAH! DRRRRRRRRAAAAAHHH! SEH-" Smack! "-AHHHH!"

A young Naruto fell ungracefully to the grassy earth, bruised and scathed in several parts of his person as the blow dealt forced his being back.

"HAR-HAR-HARR! IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO SHOW ME, LITTLE MASTER! BWAH-HAR-HAR!"

The fire giant Surtr Second let out a bellyful laugh as he found himself taking a few steps back, regaining his stature and smiling down to his small student. The Rook of the Great Satan Lucifer was looking particularly lively in that morning air, with his orange locks fluttering like fire in the cool air's breeze. His usual outfit, a long pair of red cargo pants, vacant of anything resembling a short or torso cover, was covered in a few marks which might have been an odd mix between grass stains and blood.

Oh, but don't worry. It wasn't his blood.

The blood actually belonged to his miniature student, who stood now before him with a readied stance. Naruto's lips were cut and swollen, his still growing figure bruised and roughed up, but still looked ready to continue the grievous exercises Surtr continued to persistently put him through. The human youth had opted for a similar dress to his teacher, with orange-colored cargo pants and a lacking of torso wear. It felt good, as the morning sun of the Underworld bathed him in its warm embrace, comforting his minor injuries.

It was manly, as Surtr would claim, to forego the confines of a shirt and feel the natural energies of the Underworld seep in through all pores of the body. But whereas the giant had a body of muscle developed strength which made him seem almost like a body builder ready for the Greek Olympics, and had an almost continues flow of heat and warmth coming from his enormous being, the young blond instead looked rather tame and skinny next to such bulk. A child, truly, before a beast of a man. A man all too willing to show his ward true hell under his tutelage.

Naruto had proven time and time again to be willing to meet his hell with a grin.

But now, a pair of cerulean eyes looked to the maker of such boisterous laughs with a hard look. He raised a hand to his cheek, feeling for swelling or signs of blood on his lips.

He was clean, but the thought of his being handled so easily left him unamused.

"_Tsk_. HAAAAGGHHH! Ha! ARRR! _Yeaaaah!_ CRREEE-" POW! "-BRAGH!"

Again, the boy fell to the ground. Harder and more ungraceful than before. His attack ended with but the barest tap of the giant's fist to his nose.

"Ahh, is this _all_ you have to show me? BWAH HAR **HARR** _**HAAARRRRR**_!"

A groan was the only answer the younger boy could give the mocking giant. A silent one, followed by his smallish form rising uneasily back to its full height.

His blue stared to his teacher's black between the need to catch his breath. Challenging again.

"Arrgh…ahhh…_hmph_. KYAAAAAAAARRRRRR-" **BOOM**! "BEEeegh…"

Again, his short figure fell, looking dazed as something the size of tire and as gentle as a wrecking ball pushed into his center, knocking the very air from within.

He did not rise so quickly as before.

"Hmph. As I thought, you're _still_ just my FOOLISH PUPIL! _**HAH HAR HAR HAAARRRRRRR**_!"

This boastful laugh, loud and hearty that the earth itself seemed to quiver at its noise, went on for some moments. Disturbing the serenity of the surrounding area.

Behind the house of Lucifer is a long and wide area of trees, flowers and glimmering marble steps. Trees with leaves of sapphires and rubies; flowers which changed colors with the wind and the feeling of the sun in the air; marble steps, long and chiseled and smooth to the touch, showed an _insurmountable_ effort had been placed into their making and placing. Every piece, every inch, and every stage appeared to have been cared for with a graceful touch. No tree was overgrown, no petal whittled or decayed, and every piece of flooring seemed newly sited and clean.

It was a nice little courtyard, used mostly to hold the occasional party or to be marveled at by the visiting envoy, diplomat, or guest. Individuals of many walks found at least a small appreciation to its decoration, design or natural charm.

Also, it made an _awesome_ open space for Surtr to drill his 'lesson plan' into his master's son.

In particular, one large pasture of cleanly cut grass made a most excellent place for 'teaching.' If you disregarded the bloodstains, the laughing giant, and the child refusing to stay down against said giant's onslaught, it actually was a pleasant spot. When parties were held and parents thought to bring their children to interact with others of their age and rank, most youths would find themselves on the tuft of grass. Playing, laughing, and even the occasional 'roll around' to be particularly entertaining on such a large bit of green. And usually the instigator of such times, the mansion's own youthful resident, could be found amongst them.

He was thrilled in his playing. Grinning, laughing with the occasional hearty shout of joy. The picture of youth, growing happy.

His past glee and delight, however, was like comparing the ocean to an erupting volcano now; the hard, piercing gaze he aimed at his teacher could almost be considered chilling. Unfortunately for the child, however, he looked more akin to a kitten attempting to stare down a tiger, rather than the aged Hokage looking to best a walking inferno.

it was sort of adorable in a way, with those eyes only seeming to have the power to excite his teacher further.

"Yes! That's it! _That fire!_ SHOW ME MORE!"

"_YEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHH!_"

And the pattern continued. The boy would attack, the giant would defend himself, perhaps adding insult to injury, then repeat the process.

It was a routine Lady Grayfia had grown only too accustomed with in the past several months. Walking out onto her patio, stepping lightly on the marble floors, she found herself watching as her boy grit his teeth and continued, time and time again, to launch himself forward. She would watch as his teacher, in no gentle way, push him back to the earth with open palm or closed fist then await the youth's return.

And this is where the stress came: the fighting. The loud smacks of Surtr's hands as they pushed her son back into the ground, leaving often a scrape or bruise. And every time Naruto stood again, going back at his teacher with a yell or shout, she worried a little more as the pattern repeated for several hours. In the beginning, Grayfia would find need to hold herself back when the urge to defend her boy from harm struck her mind, today she had grown mostly used to this obtuse instruction both her child and Surtr seemed only too fond to continue.

But honestly, it was debatable if such methods could even be called 'training.'

It was an almost barbaric way of teaching. One she could not say she fully approved of, even after so much time had passed. And while of course, by comparison to the giant's true power and strength, the blows dealt were little more than pats or nudges of his hands by comparison, she still held her breath when her child fell to the dirt.

Surtr would never do more to harm his master's child; say what you will of the boisterous Rook, but never doubt his love for the Lord Lucifer and, by proxy, the boy he was dutifully training. He was a good man, even with how he presently throughout a kick to stumble the boy back from his continuous attacks. While her opinion of him could be strained, at times, Grayfia could admit that he was probably the best to train her young man.

Two headstrong individuals. You could almost say it was a match made in heaven, if your ignored the irony of such a statement.

"Oh, he's _sooo_ amazing…"

"Look at that hair of his. It's just like…_fire_. OH, I think I can feel a _fire_ growing in my-"

"Mhmm, and he's so _passionate_."

"But…but he's kind of…intimidating…don't you think?"

"But look at those _muscles_. _Oh_. And that voice! _Ohhh!_ And that…_temperament_…_OOOOOOHHHH_…!"

A single silvery eyebrow rose, as Grayfia turned her head to the thick trees to her left. Four maids stood hidden behind the thick woods, carefully peering out to watch the pair of boys fight on the grass, talking quietly and with poorly-suppressed giggles and moans as they looked longingly towards the large figure of their admiration.

This was becoming a familiar sight for the lady of the house. Since the initiation of Naruto's training, a certain crowd of admirers had become a frequent sighting for the silver-haired woman. At first, it had been almost a quarter of the staff, who seemed interested in seeing what sort of training or guidance the heir to the household was receiving. It was a spectacle of gossip, it seemed, as word spread quickly through the Underworld that Lucifer's son had begun to train under his mighty and formidable Rook. It was a sort of minor gossip, but one which had people wondering on where this guidance would lead.

Only time would tell.

Anyway, the days passed and the training continued. And eventually, the interest in watching the boy waned, as the mansion's help had duties to uphold. It became more of an occurrence for simply Grayfia to stand and watch her son be taught, until she felt need for him to resume his studies in other matters besides the physical.

But now and then, such as presently, a few of the housemaids came to…_perceive_ Surtr in his 'large magnificence.'

Grayfia only shook her head when she saw her help looking longingly towards the object of their want. She would not hinder them for their aspirations. A Devil was a creature of desires, without question, and lust was unquestionably a desire. If they so wanted the Rook, who was she to deny them?

However, their wants could wait until the day was finished. "Don't you have duties to attend to?" She called out pointedly towards them, watching as the maids jumped at her cool voice.

"M-mistress!" One of them shouted, quivering under the steely gaze of the head maid. "G-g-good morning! I d-didn't see you there! W-we were just, uh, just…" She did not seem to find a word to use, waiting for a long, awkward moment to consider a proper response to give to her employer.

She couldn't.

So instead, the maid bowed deep and quickly then turned and made a quick retreat from the iron look of Lucifuge. Her fellow eavesdroppers mimicked their compatriot, leaving just as swiftly with flustered and embarrassed looks.

Grayfia, for her part, only shook her head at their antics. This would happen again, she was certain, and again she would command them to return to their duties and remember to have a talk with each of them later. She would be gentle, in her own way. But remembrance of duty sometimes had to come before the idea of carrying out their own, deeply felt wishes. They were young Devils and would probably need time to adjust to the idea that obligations needed to come before personal yearnings. But Grayfia was patient and _more_ than willing to drill this ideal into their malleable minds.

But now, she was left alone to watch her son move about his morning, launching and moving around to fight the larger man. It was good exercise, in a way. Fresh air was always good. If only she could encourage him not to be thrown to the earth so haphazardly. Or to remind him, for the tenth or eleventh time, that despite his great size, Surtr was obnoxiously fast for a Rook. And, of course, to maybe take a moment's break to eat his morning meal.

"I know, mom," Naruto would tell her, crossing his arms and pouting. "I can handle him! And I'm not hungry! I grabbed an apple, _I'm fine!_"

A small apple was hardly a meal with the necessary vitamins and nutrients a growing boy would need in the morning. But she did not argue and instead let him work himself into an appetite. She would prepare him helpings during lunch to make up for it, like always. He was sure to appreciate her then.

And so, time past in the courtyard of Lucifer, with only the sounds of grunts and yells of battle to be heard…

* * *

_Sakura Tree Clearing, Japan_

_Time Remaining: 2 hours, 58 minutes, 12 seconds…_

There was a great rush of wind and air where the first collision happened.

Dust and dirt hovered over the clearing, covering it in a soil-brown fog. A tense ringing in the ears was felt by many of the Devils, as the focused pieces of demonic and magical energies collided from both sides with a great sound which shook the earth.

No cries of power or shots of energy were given after, as both Kings tried to make sense of what would happen next. Sight and sound were thrown into disarray, confusing the parties briefly. Barely could the two groups see their own friends and allies, let alone their enemies. Blind combat was not something wisely fought or practiced even while holed up in the Underworld, and so it seemed not a minute into their conflict the two Kings had discovered a weakness in themselves.

But now was not the time to consider their faults.

"Everyone! Fall back to the trees!"

"Find cover in the forests! Quickly!"

Although their vision was skewed, their sense of direction and understanding of where their opponents were remained. Quickly, the two Peerages leapt away on quickened feet, jumping into the brush of the tree's natural coverage in the opposite directions of their competitors. Their adversary's movements were skewed by the still prevalent fog of war, but the same disadvantage lied with their enemies too. Both teams were left blind to the other, and so had their trails were covered and cleared.

The rustle of leaves and grass quieted soon after. Shallow and hushed breaths were only just manageable to be heard between them. No one moved or said a word as the dust fell back to the ground or flew off in the wind, leaving the area seeable again. Once their visions were clear again, the next job of finding the other team within the grasses and the trees began.

An epic game of 'I Spy,' as it were.

But their search for the others was stopped almost as quickly as it began, as someone still stood on the dust covered clearing.

Naruto waited patiently as his vision cleared and sight of the area's surroundings returned. He was smiling and didn't seem particularly bothered by the eruption. His hands were in his hoodie's front pocket, his stance was rather casual and unimposing, and the way his eyes calmly glanced to where the two groups of teens where it almost seemed as if he were amused.

"Hmm. I do seem to have lost my friends…" he thought aloud, his voice only just hearable from the two sides of the woods and coming off highly entertained, "…well, if there's nothing else to do…" He reached one hand from his hoodie, turning it behind himself and reaching towards what seemed to be his back pocket. Instead, he lifted the orange hoodie, only so slightly, and seemed to be reaching for something tucked under his clothes.

This action caught the attentions from both parties. His movements seemed to be done in a lapse of speed or urgency, giving everyone a chance to wonder at what this teen could have been procuring from outside their views.

A weapon? It was the first wonder that came to the teenage minds. It was difficult to say what sort of a weapon could be hidden under a shirt and carried without hindrance, but that didn't mean that open clothes of his didn't hide some secret underneath.

A tool, maybe? If not a weapon, a tool could be hidden away for use. Rias personally recalled once where the blond had tied her up when she snuck into his room when they were younger, using a particularly constricting rope to do so. Wherever he even pulled the rope from, she could not guess, but he seemed rather competent in his ability to restrain her.

If not a weapon or tool, then a magical item? Not everyone was so magically adept as a Bishop, and nothing remotely magical could be sensed from his backside, but there were items which held their magical capabilities hidden quite well. And with Naruto's ineptitude towards all things arcane, perhaps it would have evened the playing field against the magic castors of both teams.

But the thoughts were largely the same from both side: whatever was being pulled, it would likely be troublesome in nature.

And…they weren't exactly wrong…

Naruto felt his fingers wrap around the unseen item from behind. His expression visibly brightened at finding a good hold for his fingers around it, then pulled the something around to his front. The item in question, from only what the two parties could tell at first, was rather small as they expected. Maybe just a bit longer than his hand? It could have been held with both hands…barely? It was difficult to tell from where the two parties stood. Being Devils didn't mean one had eagle vision.

It was slender, too, from what they could tell. Naruto's hand easily wrapped around it. In fact, the closer members could see the item curl itself more tightly from the human's grip.

So, it was…paper? A rolled-up bit of paper? Colored paper, it seemed. Inked over like a photo, but whatever the image was proved difficult to tell.

Wait…no…not paper…it was a…

…_That's a magazine_…

Several pairs of eyes stared from hidden places, as tired and hungry minds slowly processed that, yes, Naruto just pulled a folded magazine from his back.

Not a weapon or a tool or an item of some prevalence or consideration of warning.

Just…a magazine…

…_HUUUUUUHHHHH?!_

"…I guess I'll catch up on some reading." Naruto continued, unaware (or, possibly, not caring) of the looks he was receiving as he unraveled the curled reading material and without waiting began to wonder through its pages with a pleasant air.

But, unlike before, it was not the action which surprised his quiet and unseen audience. Rather, it was the picture on the front which gave everyone momentary surprise.

A woman was pictured. A young woman, shapely and tan and smiling a smile that practically promised wonderful things to its viewer. A woman with flawless skin and covered in what appeared to be a light bit of water. She might have just come out of the shower, because the only thing she wore was a single, tightly-wrapped towel across herself. It hung to her torso like it would never want to be removed, and perhaps this was what it intended, as it did seem to incite a desire and envy from most readers to be said cloth. It hid away only just the bare minimum of the dark-haired youth's body, and only spurred the imagination of many minds. But even through the thin material, to where her breasts lied, two tiny hills pointed outward. Excitement, perhaps. All things coupled together made her seem thrilled, eager, interested, and made just a little bit desiring. All of these things together made a rather compelling front cover.

And spurred a number of reactions.

* * *

_With the Gremory Peerage…_

Asia, laying in front of a small opening in a bush, held a hand to her lips. "Wha-what are you doing, Naruto-kun?!" She whispered, confused and aghast. "That-that sort of thing shouldn't be read in public! I-it's unseemly! And…and…_inappropriate!_" This was about as foul-mouthed as one could expect Asia Argento to get. Ever. But the blood rushing to her cheeks and ears made it somewhat difficult to even consider a worse thing to say, let alone think up.

Kiba, kneeling beside her, laughed a little uncomfortably. "Well, it's certainly bold," he'd give her that.

"Let's punch his face in," Koneko added in, pounding her fists together, riling herself. Her expression looked largely unchanged, but her eyes were narrow and gritted.

Some short ways to the side, Rias stood beside her Queen. Her appearance, while not necessarily upset, held a certain lack of amusement to finding her cousin perusing such material in her presence. "Hmph. _Well_, that boy has some nerve."

"Well, he is a growing boy, Buchou," Akeno commented, not seeming to even be trying to hold back her mirth or fit of giggles to such a spectacle of an angry heiress and the usually polite, if rambunctious, Uzumaki looking at such reading material. "You had to expect this would happen sooner or later. Hmhmm! 'Though, I admit, that sort of publication…it is one of the more _daring_ sorts to pick out." Even Akeno felt a little red at seeing such a magazine being shown in public. While she did not read such material, she did hear it was one of the more…_venturesome_ reads for anyone to get their hands on. If there was a magazine to check out for a young pervert's mind, Naruto could certainly have done worse.

Her King did not seem to appreciate or agree with her assessment, crossing her arms aggressively. _If he really wanted to see a woman's body…_ She shook her head of such thoughts. Now was neither the time nor the place for them. "Tell Kiba and Koneko to get ready," she commanded, turning her attention to Akeno, "tell them to await my command. We'll get those bells before that _idiot_ even knows what hit him!"

* * *

_With the Sitri Peerage…_

What was there to say on the matter of Naruto's reading of such an indecent and relatively offensive supplement of reading? Sona never even considered such an action would be taken. Especially not in public. The boy standing there in the clearing never seemed particularly interested in such a thing (well, save a quick moment a month before) and unquestionably had more guile than to decide to read an inappropriate catalogue of that sorts in front of teenagers. Women, especially in her own Peerage, would take offense to such a thing.

For example: "Sona-sama," her Queen – a third-year teen, like her, with a tall and curvy figure, silk-like black hair that ran down as far as her shapely hips, and wearing a similar pair glasses to herself – whispered into her ear, "I don't mean to sound impertinent…but your friend…he disgusts me."

Sona almost laughed. Her Queen – the formerly human teen, Tsubaki Shinra – was usually a quiet and well-mannered young woman, who also happened to be a wise and calculative student in her own right. It was what attracted the Sitri Heiress into compelling her to be the first member to join her newly formed Peerage. Her rather blunt assessment of the boy, now blushing at the material in his hand, was enjoyable. And she did offer a nice second mind whenever she made her first decisions in office.

And, admittedly, the young King had a narrowed look which betrayed a lack of amusement when she first made out the front cover. Her hands tightened into fists, noticeable twitch of annoyance developed over her left eye, and her arms crossed over her chest in a way that showed her feelings towards her friend's less than public actions.

And indeed, she thought she knew him well…

But then, with that notion of familiarity, a curious look crossed over the angered King's features. Sona, admittedly, may not have been as familiar with Naruto Uzumaki as, say, Rias or her Peerage, but she thought she knew the boy in her own special way. She'd known him for years – even occasionally looked forward to visiting him whenever she came to see Rias. And not once in their moments together, alone or otherwise, did he direct himself in a manner alike to the present moment. He was always polite. Charming, even, in his own, loud way. Always smiling and confident and…kind.

He was no pervert, not like some more outwardly recognized males at Kuoh.

So…why the magazine?

Her features cooled into a more calculative expression, moving a finger to her lips and quietly assessing the present moment while her Peerage, in their own ways, began to voice their thoughts on their blond opponent.

"What an _asshole!_" Tomoe Meguri, Sona's Knight, openly growled while throwing an openly malicious glare towards the lone human teen. Her hand tightened around the thick material of her weapon's sheath, looking only too eager to release it. "Who does he think he is?! Reading that garbage here…DEGENERATE!"

Ruruko Nimura, the other Pawn of the Sona's Peerage, in addition to being the youngest member of the Student Council, fervently nodded with reddened cheeks. "Creepo! Slime! Dumbie!" She cried her own version of cursing. "Scumbag! Stupid-head! Mmm…mmm…VAGABOND!"

"Guys, please, calm down!" Reya Kusaka, the soft-spoken Bishop, spoke tenderly and calmly as her companions' attitudes rose. "This isn't so bad. I…I mean, it isn't good but it…we need to stay focused…_Momo-chan,_ _back me up here!_"

Momo Hanakai, the last Bishop of Sona and a second-year beauty with a snowy-white complexion to match her equally white hair. She, like Tomoe and Ruruko, held a none-to-pleased look about her as she sent a frigid look towards the human.

"…_Trash_." Was all she said.

Reya seemed less than pleased with her fellow Bishop's 'assistance.' "…Saji-san, please?"

Saji didn't offer his two cents. In fact, he didn't even seem to hear his friend. Instead, his focus seemed to be trying to get a better look at the magazine from his angle. The corner of his lips was curved into a half-formed grin.

Reya stared at him, then her angered compatriots, before dropping her head dejected. "It's hopeless. I see that now."

While the others seemed either angered, distraught, or even mildly curious in the ways they looked over to the clearing, one of Sona's Peerage instead looked mildly amused.

"Hmm. I think it's kind of daring." Tsubasa Yura, the lone Rook, commented with an all too prevalent smirk. Out of her present Peerage, Tsubasa always had a way with liking bold or even _aggressive_ actions. It was entertaining, in a way. Very devilish.

But Tomoe did not share her friend's sentiment. Not even a little. "I say we hit him now!" She declared, fuming. "I mean, just look at him; he's practically _drooling_ on that-that-SMUT. We'll get him before he even knows we're there!"

And that's when Sona's eyes perked up.

"Don't." She commanded, catching the attention of those around her. "That's what he wants," she lifted a single finger to her glasses, adjusting them and narrowing her gaze to the relaxed teen. "He's goading us. _Provoking_ us. The magazine is a ploy. He _wants_ us to attack."

Ruruko looked to her King, then to the boy, ogling a particular image, then turned back to Sona. "Uh, are you sure? I mean, he may just be a dunce."

"Hmph. Perhaps." Sona was willing to relent as much, though her mind and gut were telling her otherwise. "But for now, we'll proceed with caution. Let Rias make the first move. Turn his attention away from us and see just how ready he is." She turned her eyes toward the teen in the clearing. "We'll begin when there's an opening."

Tsubaki raised a willowy brow. "But Sona-sama, would that not give the other Peerage the advantage?"

The King allowed a small laugh to escape her lips. "Oh, believe me," she started, turning to her Peerage's wary glances, "there's no way Naruto's going to lose those bells so quickly." She allowed her team to mull over her words for a moment, receiving understanding looks and nods from her council, the memory of their blond opponent's rush of speed still quite vivid in their minds.

They were a mostly gifted bunch. A child who went to Kuoh Academy had to possess something akin to intellect. And Sona had chosen her Servants well.

The heiress shook her amusement away before pointing a finger to her Queen. It was time for business. "Tsubaki, take Tomoe and ready yourselves. You're going in first." Tsubaki nodded, turning her attention to the other half of her now formed partnership, who offered her own silent confirmation. "Saji, follow after on my command. Provide cover for the two and restrict his movements. Tsubasa, Ruruko, stand by for his defense." Saji raised his hand, Absorption Line shining only so slightly in the dim light of the trees. "Momo, Reya, we'll provide long-range offense. Try to not hit anyone in the crossfire and _don't hold back_. Naruto isn't someone to half-ass with." Her Bishops offered firm nods, their hands raising and being coated with a dark hue of blue.

Sona returned their nods, then looked over her Peerage with a cool eye. "Everyone has their positions. Any questions?"

No one spoke.

"Good. Then spread out. Knowing Rias, she'll make her move soon…"

* * *

_Time Remaining: 2 hours, 49 minutes, 08 seconds…_

_How do you even bend like that?!_

Naruto stared, fixated and stunned, on another particular image of a woman. Scantily clad just like the others with an all but willing looking in her eyes, he'd been staring at this photo for a few moments now.

_Seriously! Her legs…a-and her head, it's like…o-o-oh! And those elbows, how do they…BONES! DOES SHE HAVE BONES?!_

The young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, positioned herself in a way that, though just as provocative as the other photos he'd perused, seemed almost impossible to his aged mind. And Naruto, to his credit, had seen many impossible things.

But the absurdity of her posture, as if the accentuate her ability to twist herself at the most unusual angles with ease, made him carefully look to every curve of her person, as if to see if what he was looking at was real or not.

He was puzzled by the image. Unexpectedly so. He recalled ninjas with less flexibility then this woman; men and women who's performed feats of strength and power which could make tempered warriors quiver in fear. But never had he seen a body angled in such a way. This image of unusual flexibility was only made more perplexing by how the woman smiled; looking almost happy or elated to be in such a bizarre position. How something so unorthodox could ever be comfortable, the teen didn't even want to begin to understand.

It was almost painful to even consider. Even his late wife, a warrior and combatant of astounding flexibility and speed, would have been unprepared or downright incapable of taking such a position. And he'd seen her take on some rather strenuous postures and forms in his life. Forms he certainly could not have taken in his life.

This consideration of his past love, however, had a recurring effect of his imagination taking hold, and seeing in his mind his lost love positioning himself like the woman on the page.

He could feel his face heated, his own imagination creating quite a picture then. And _damn_ if it wasn't easily a _hundred_ times better to his eyes than the magazine's_._

With those legs, her eyes, her lips, her…EVERYTHING.

He swiftly averted his view from the image, looking quite red in the cheeks. This might have been the third or fourth time he imagined his wife in the place of the women in the pages. Looking, being positioned, and wearing clothes that she would have never worn even if her life depended on it. He could only imagine how she would scold him if she knew the sort of thoughts going through his head, of course with an equally relatable shade of red to her own cheeks.

_Sorry honey!_ He said a silent prayer, looking as apologetic as his crimson-skinned expression would allow, and turned his eyes to sky. _Just a little lonely here, that's all. D-don't mind me…I love you!_

Now he was feeling guilty of reading a naughty magazine while thinking of his long-past wife. That's a pleasant thought to have. Not to mention that half the images began to bare an uncanny resemblance to his love after only a few short moments.

If he didn't know any better, he'd think she was haunting him. Teasing him.

Whether it was his wife messing with him from beyond the grave or his own imagination articulating itself in the form of stimulating imagery, the former Hokage didn't want to know, and so then quickly began to move through the catalogue's pages again. Though only with a mere fraction of his original attention.

_Maybe bringing this wasn't the greatest idea._ He thought to himself after a few more minutes waiting.

Of course, the purpose of the reading material was having the desired effect. Even hidden, he could faintly hear the displeased whispers of upset teens. Their disgust with him was more evident, and their outright intent and wanting to hurt him was practically malleable. He wasn't even certain teenagers would feel anything to his 'distractive tool.' Unlike when he was young in his last life, and when such material showed that his teacher was barely considering him a threat or worth his attention, Naruto couldn't say whether reading porn would illicit a similar reaction or not.

Apparently, teenage Devils react quite similarly to twelve-year-old ninjas.

Take that as you will.

But then, he found a page more curious then the others. A page which unfolded itself.

Curious, he pulled the page out into full length. Like the other pictures, it showed a woman, seductive in appearance and quite beautiful in her own right. She held herself in a confident way, her posture was like others, and looked to have no ill-will in showing off her form to the camera which, most likely, had no issue taking as many photo opportunities as it could. And in those ways, this new lady was much like everyone else in the magazine; eye-catching, suggestive, and built like high-class Succubi.

Nothing really to argue about. And if that were all that made this woman stand out, it might have seemed strange to give such a large page.

But there was one difference to her. Unlike her previously viewed magazine compatriots, this model offered nothing in the way of clothing. Her lack of dress was prominent. Full-frontal, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. All her glory, laid out onto that longer-than-average image, and every bit as tan as the rest of her.

Naruto actually needed to pull his eyes back from the image, startled by the sudden exposure. While certainly, his village had 'visual material' which showed off the human body in its glory, and he had still vivid and fond memories being around a beautiful woman lacking in the way of clothing, it had been a long time since he felt the need or want to look into such materials. This showing of such an, admittedly, gifted young woman was, to his eldered mind, an unexpected surprise.

One which made his face go a deep crimson and threaten to burst a valve from his nose.

His surprised reaction did not go unnoticed.

* * *

"Kiba, Koneko, go!"

Out from the forest's edge, the two named teens leapt out, sprinting quickly with sword drawn and fists raised towards their blond combatant. It was difficult to say what caused the Peerage of Gremory to attack first; the sight of Naruto taken aback by what, going off purely his facial expression, seemed like quite the image in his serial, or Rias' reaction to her nephew reacting so dumbfounded to whatever caught his interest.

Either the reason, the two Devils were on the human in little time, with Kiba reaching his friend first with his superior speed and lashing out with a stab of his sword, aimed at his cheek.

Kiba would mull over his initial attack later that evening. Not for the reason of how Naruto avoided his blow by merely tilting his head back, only the barest of distances, to avoid the piercing dash of his attack. Though that would-be part of his silent pondering. Rather, it was by how the boy did not even seem to feel the need to even glance over to his coming assailant, still looking quite dazed by whatever caught his attention. Kiba felt only the air pass by him as he soared forward and landed away from his opponent, quickly readying himself for another attack.

Koneko came quickly after. Her attack, a leap into the air with a fist drawn back to drive down on her opponent's position, missed without issue. Naruto, this time, only took a long step back to avoid the aggressive blow from the ashen-haired teen, who's considerable strength left a sizable mark into the earth.

But her assault was unfinished. Naruto was within distance, so Koneko leapt again, a driving left-hook directed to his chest.

But again, her attack missed. Naruto crouched to the earth, leaving Koneko to pass over his lowered form. And still, he didn't meet their eyes or acknowledge their presence, instead deciding to take a deep breath, as if calming himself, and return to his reading.

If intentional or not, it was hard to say. But Naruto was, if even perhaps unintentionally, _toying_ with the Knight and Rook of Gremory.

Koneko was not one to express annoyance outwardly. Neither was Kiba. The younger teen preferred to use her words, harsh though they might have been, to declare her mood. Kiba simply moved past his emotions and straightened himself for any sort of conflict, as his experiences in the Underworld had taught him. He kept himself cool and focused. Emotion would not graze his features.

But right then, both teens held narrowed looks.

A Devil's pride was not something so easily challenged.

Kiba dashed forward, his sword held high and prepared to cut down his friend. Koneko launched herself once more, this time with a leg brought wide, prepared to send it forward to smash into the man's ribs. They came from his front and back, moving as fast as they were, unflinching in their followed instruction to destroy their opponent.

And again, Naruto stared down to his reading material, turning a page with a single finger as the distances between the sword and the leg closed.

**FWOOSH!**

_CHING!_

Koneko's leg went wide, knocking a wave of air out from the sheer weight of her blow, making an audible noise. Kiba was different; his sword only just missed the smooth skin of her leg before swiftly embedding its tip into the dirt floor beneath them. Debatable, though it might have been, to say if the Rook's skin would feel anything from such a tool, it was not something the Knight felt needed to be tested on her leg of all things.

The moment after the first assault was quiet and still. As what might have seemed unsurprising at that point in the morning, Naruto again was not to be found between the two teens. Their quickened actions hitting naught their target but instead a small gathering of leaves which appeared unexpectedly between the them. By the sheer power behind the kick of the young Koneko's, several of the green plants shivered in the air, while the dark sword of Kiba managed to cut down several of the viridian specs into spectacular halves.

Where this foliage appeared from, not even those watching from the corners of the woods could answer.

The question of where the disappearing teen was, however, proved easier to answer.

The sound of ruffled paper was easily heard over the silence of the clearing, with several eyes turning towards the noise to see the blond once again reading the magazine without issue or noticeable care. Furthering the surprise of those watching, there happened to be a sizable gap between himself and his two friends; the distance travelled in that short instant somewhat startling to all viewers. His expression of interest towards whatever he was viewing remained, as was his stunning lack of awareness to the world around him.

Kiba stared over to his friend. "He's fast," he muttered, mostly to himself, as he straightened himself back to full height.

"Keep up the pressure. We'll smash his shit," Koneko returned, slapping her fist into her open hand with a resounding 'pop' in the clearing.

As entertaining as circumstances would have it, Naruto's eyes widened at the sudden noise from the girl's person, turning his attention away from the pages in surprise and towards his friends' aggressive stares. He seemed confused by their gazes for only a brief moment, then simply lifted his hand and gave a kindly wave to the two, not seeming to have a care or worry in the world. This had the – perhaps desired – effect of inciting further ire from the two Servants of Gremory.

But as this all happened, a pair of twin steel flashed behind his person, held by two slim figures descending down from the blue sky.

The sharpened edge of weapons fell. Aimed and hoping to meet the human's unguarded back.

* * *

Sona would compliment her Queen and Knight on their timely attack later that evening. Their decided time to strike could not have been more apt.

Naruto was distracted. His back was turned. He only just avoided an attack from both sides with an admitted ease which proved startling to even herself. His passive methods of taking on a Devil's trained Rook and Knight were in no way easy feats, and although the Sitri King was all too aware that the boy was by no means an ordinary or incompetent fighter, the absolute ease by which he proved his superiority over Rias' Peerage was both startling and admittedly amusing.

Tsubaki and Tomoe fell behind the youth in the moment after his quick escape. They came down on him with speed and stealth, barely seeming to be anything more than shadows as they leapt towards his unprotected rear. And in that moment, Sona found herself quite pleased, believing this first attack would be an appropriate first step to her plan.

Of her Peerage, it was an unquestionable fact that Tomoe held the advantage of speed to herself, surpassing even her Queen. Her skill in close combat – especially with her armament of choice, a broadsword bequeathed to her by Sona, forged by Devil smiths and produced at high monetary cost – made her a formidable combatant. Particularly when considering her history and familiarity with the academy's kendo club. Tomoe was almost a shoo-in for the next club president, and before her involvement in the council, seemed all too eager to take up the mantle once their current president moved on to university.

But the presidential position of a club like kendo seemed…_inappropriate_ for someone of her spirit and talent.

It took some time, but Sona managed to convince her Knight that her place on the Student Council would open doors which she never knew even existed.

The Sitri heiress found her convincing to be one of her proudest and most capable moments in her life.

And as for Tsubaki, her history and competency with the polearm known as the 'naginata' – a familiar weapon of feudal Japan – was without issue or complaint. As fate would have it, Sona's Queen was a part of a rather traditional family which held practices and conducts which dated back several centuries. One of which happened to be the use and handling of the old weapon. Since before she could even run, the youth Tsubaki was given instruction in the finer and formal methods of conduct befitting her station within the household. Her proficiency in all aspects taught to her were quickly recognized and applauded, as was her exceptional skill with the polearm.

With her mind, maturity, elegance, trained physique and her distinct knowledge of the weapon, Tsubaki proved to be a formidable Servant as both an intellectual and a woman of exceptional close quarter capability.

The Sitri girl was pleased with her choices. Tsubaki and Tomoe would do well for her first move.

* * *

To the credit of the Sitri Peerage's unseen attack, Naruto actually found that he needed to put more effort into its avoidance than his previous efforts required. Whereas before his sheer speed and lackluster efforts in evading the initial strikes of his friendly foes had proven more than sufficient, the quick moves of the Sitri Queen and Knight proved to necessitate a bit more work and less finesse than his previous movements.

If only a little, at least.

Naruto leapt high from his held spot in the clearing. The two steel weapons fell to the now vacant spot of their intended target, marking the earth where he stood. The two girls lifted their heads to follow their human opponent as he hung in the air, with Tomoe cursing their failed efforts.

Kiba watched this all take place with a quickened mind and plan. Taking advantage of this sudden movement skyward, and the opponent's inability to fly or move, the Knight launched into the air with sword drawn wide, dark and leathery wings jutting from his back as the distance narrowed between himself and Naruto.

His eyes met Naruto's, who did seem not as ready and willing to read so casually at that moment, and brought his weapon wide towards his unguarded arm.

But of all methods that might have been available for the former ninja to use in getting out of his airborne situation, it was to Kiba's unexpected dismay that it was perhaps the most _ridiculous_ of methods he could have used.

Naruto used his hand to open the magazine wide, showing to the young Devil only the briefest image of a girl without a top on. He held the opened publication out towards the incoming sword, looking as if using the reading material as a shield to intercept the sword.

Kiba appeared questioning the unusual move but still followed through with the swing, letting his blade's edge graze into the open and waiting maw of the opened book.

He regretted it only a few seconds later.

The sword only just began to press against the insides of the seemingly makeshift shield before the top and lower parts of the magazine slammed shut, closing in around the edged weapon by tightly gripping fingers. The forward motion of the weapon ceased, cut off as if it had been knocked into the side of a mountain, which then proceed to engulf the tool into itself and refuse it any chance of being released.

It was a simple action. A quick one, in less than moment's time.

Kiba's eyes could only widen. Even his forward direction had somehow been stopped. His surprise strike concluded by his opponent.

He looked to how the magazine held his weapon so. Kept in place between paper, ink, and a few fingers. It didn't seem possible. In fact, it almost seemed silly; a common store and household item, not used as a weapon against anything more than the occasional smiting of a lowly spider or insect, had rendered his blade useless. It was enough to make his expression go pale at the mere thought of what might occur next.

He followed those fingers to their owner, eventually reaching the pair of eyes staring at him. Those large blues were something he'd seen for many years now and had seen many emotions in them.

This unwavering edge was no different. But the only time he'd seen them like this were towards his opponents. Foes. Enemies. Towards people he fought with vigor and intention.

The last time he saw such a look, they were aimed at the black-feathered Fallen the night he rescued Asia.

Such eyes were never directed towards his friends. _Never_ towards Kiba.

And that's when the Servant of Gremory discovered, with a cold chill trailing down his spine, that his friend was not pretending to ignore them anymore. That now, Naruto Uzumaki was taking this challenge with some seriousness.

...And the Knight found himself wishing that he wouldn't.

The human's next move was a simple one; he pulled the sword back, drawing his fellow blond towards him. His free arm went to the Devil's shoulder, pressing down. At first, gently. Barely a hold. But then it grew harder. Rougher. More aggressive. Digging fingers into clothing and into the skin below and muscles below them. It quickly became a pain of increasing agony, bring a quick loss of breath and control over his composure. His grip on his sword weakened until it fell from his hand, his face contorted in pain, and his form wavered in the air.

Astounding how so much could happen in the moment of an earthly second.

But still, it was not over.

Like a dam breaking under the strain of the water it held, the pressure rose to unprecedented heights, forcing the very control of Kiba's flight out from his person with a harrowing cry. His wings went wide and stiff, their control now gone and unable to maintain his pattern in the air. The Knight found that the pull of gravity and rough pressing down of Naruto's hand would no longer be ignored, and with one final shove from the aggressive fingers of his opponent, he was sent downward with an unprecedented force to the earthly floor.

And so, the Devil fell.

* * *

_With the Gremory Peerage..._

Rias watched as Kiba made to strike down his opponent. Watched as her nephew took advantage of the attack. Watched as only what seemed to be a simple grab and throw sent her Knight falling to earth, landing without any sort of grace and lifting a cloud of dirt to hover over where he now laid.

It didn't seem particularly brutal. Quick, yes, but not so brutal. And yet, Kiba did not rise up so quickly as she might have hoped. Only the silent movement of his chest and the grunts of discomfort offered her any clue that her Servant would be fine.

"Kiba-kun!" Asia yelled, foregoing all manner of stealth and tried to move to his position. There were tears at the corners of her eyes. "Kiba-kun, get up! Get up, Kiba-kun, please!"

Akeno quickly reached out to stop her, grabbing hold of her wrist and looking stern. "Asia-chan, _don't_."

"He's hurt!" She cried. "He's hurt! I have to help him! I have to-"

"He'll be fine," Rias said, her voice sharp and aimed towards her frantic Bishop. "Kiba still breathes. I did not choose a weakling for my Knight, Asia, you would do well to remember that." Her gaze turned away from her collapsed Knight and fell on Asia for a moment, making sure to show that her command for her stillness was not a request, but an order. "He will rise. Quickly, I am sure. Kiba-kun is far too stubborn to be taken out so easily this early in the game."

Asia stared at her King for only a moment, looking conflicted by both her wanting to help her friend and the order of which she had been given. She did nod, eventually, understanding why she was being refrained before turning back to the battle at hand. Her face still appeared panicked and concerned; her hands went up in a way as if she were ready to pray, but hesitated in a curious way to wonder if praying for her fellow Devil would have the same effect as it had on herself. It would probably do no good to give her friend a holy shock while he laid on the ground, unquestionably in some pain.

Rias, for a quiet moment, acknowledged how her commanding presence did indeed get the results she desired from the timid Bishop. Something she was sure her father would have praised her on. But perhaps, she would admit, her words came off as a bit harsher than intended. Particularly when she considered how her Servant was still a young, untested and unquestionably pure former-nun now looking to one of her few friends being dealt with in such a quick and aggressive manner. Her experience in situations such as the one were undoubtedly was limited; she did not understand yet that emotions must sometimes be quelled so that victory must be achieved.

The Crimson King told herself she would apologize later for her words. She could offer as much. But for now, there was a battle which needed to be won.

And already, her mind began to plot her next move, now taking into consideration the Queen and Knight of Sitri…

Akeno quietly released her grip from the girl and gave her attention fully into the battle. Her expression was not its usual smile, instead now taking in every detail she could over the surrounding area. Unlike Asia, she understood what it meant to see conflict. How to survive and triumph over tribulations that occurred. How to turn troubles and problems into advantages and benefits. To move past the hell that came with struggle and push forward with whatever situations came after.

By that sense, her lessons had created an astounding Queen. Ready for the Rating Games.

But above all those lessons, Akeno instilled within herself a sense of desire in her needing to _wallow_ in the absolute _bliss_ which came with conflict. To enjoy every moment by which how her opponents suffered for their transgressions, whether they be through Straying from their masters or merely thinking to challenge her majestic self. She made sure that whatever happened, her personal being would be elevated by the experience. Either through the pain induced onto her opponents, or the agony brought on to herself, Akeno would wear a smile which spoke volumes of her enthrallment of the moment.

And even now, a small part of her found the way by which Naruto handled those around him with a mocking ease to be…_invigorating_…

* * *

_Time Remaining: 2 hours, 43 minutes, 15 seconds…_

There were assumptions from the Devil teens to what might have happened next.

Perhaps a few included a look of a cool, focused, and outwardly intimidating Uzumaki, who's no-nonsense appearance struck at the hearts of the young teenagers around him. Possibly there was an anticipation of blunt, hard words that would have pained the ears and crippled the spirits of those in attendance. Or perchance there was the possibility of a looming visage standing over the frightened Devil. The human's piercing eyes promising no end of torments or misery, and his clenched fingers all too willing to induce and prolong such promises of pain.

After such a showing of control over the teens, done so in way which showed an almost professional subtlety and lacking in any sort of error, the ideas behind what would happen next were as uncomfortable as they were limitless to imagine.

Many expected to see the true ability of the Son of Lucifer, in all his fearsome capability.

The reality of the situation, however, proved…different…

_Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap oh craaaaap…!_

Naruto had his hands in his hair, looking terrified as he looked down at his friend.

_I went too far! Oh, CRAP, I went too far!_

It wasn't supposed to happen that way. Well, not _entirely_ that way. He expected his nudge to do damage, remove the sword from the equation, and send his fellow blond to the earth in rough manner. Bring him to his knee. Stagger him. Not…not…_BELLY-FLOP HIM!_

And the way the dirt lifted from his impact…that was _not_ a gentle landing.

And, as if he were adding insult to literal injury, Naruto landed with a recognizable grace and unperturbed step. Not even seeming to disturb the grass under his feet. Quite the contrast to the Devil boy, who still didn't seem capable of moving from the earth.

He breathed still, which was good. Even from where the former-Hokage stood, he could see as much.

But it was slow. Pained.

"Kiba?" Naruto called out. No response. "Kiba, you alright?" Again, nothing. Not even a twitch.

The human turned, expecting to see something of a reaction or sign of worry from those around him. But the reactions he saw were…off.

Koneko did not move from her spot, watching him with fists raised, ready to attack if needed. Say what you will of the Rook, but she and Kiba were tight. Naruto expected, at least, to see even a small sign of worry. Not this absolute 'I'm about to kick your ass' look she was supporting. Where was the love?

And Tsubaki and Tomoe were no different, lifting their weapons into forms, showing their readiness. Sure, they were the opponents to the Gremory House, but nothing even remotely in the way of caring for the downed boy?

It came off as somewhat harsher than Naruto expected.

"Kiba, sit tight," he spoke again, walking towards the prone body, "I'm gonna get you over to Asia. She'll-"

He froze.

_SHRINK!_

Naruto felt his senses jump before the sound even reached his ear. His eyes shot downward as a single strip of steel protruded from the earth, quickly shortening the distance between its sharpened point and his head.

His face betrayed the obvious surprise he felt as the metal came towards him, his own instincts pulling his head to the side to avoid the steel as it ascended another foot or so past his gold locks. He grit his teeth, feeling only the tiniest bits of his blond hair being grazed but thankfully avoiding all semblance of skin.

He would have counted himself lucky, except for the sudden-

_SHRINK! SHRINK!_

-which came after.

Another slender piece of steel aimed for his head.

Another, of similar make and look, rose towards his chest.

Naruto managed to tip his head back further to avoid the first strike, and leaned his body back in an angle which only just avoided the last sword from touching his clothes. He would have counted himself fortunate still, but the back of his mind shouted for a retreat.

And so, he did. And not a moment too soon.

_SHRINK! SHRINK! SHRINK! SHRINK! SHRINK! SHRINK! SHRINK!_

The several blades of steel rose swiftly and in greater numbers, all aiming to where only Naruto was just the moment before. They came more frequently then. Head, stomach, arms, legs; no area was without intent of being pierced. His teenage form leapt back several times to avoid where these various weapons from the underground began to leap out at him, keeping pace with his fleeing form. His eyes kept to where the weapons rose, dancing through the clearing, only managing a small moment in-between to turn his focus to where his old friend laid.

Kiba's form was till laying to the ground. But his head was now raised; grey eyes following his movements.

He was smirking. _Smirking_. His brimming confidence unsettling. And in his hand, plunged deeply into the dirt, what seemed like only the smallest of swords in existence. Silver bladed and short handled, it seemed to be little more than a dagger by its size. And the way it was pushed so deeply into the soil, the handle was only just seeable now from were Naruto leapt to avoid the eruption of further blades.

_Ah, now I see._

Naruto thought as he continued to weave around sword after sword which jutted from the earth.

_Sword Birth. I should have expected that…_

* * *

Sword Birth. The Sacred Gear belonging to the Devil Knight, Yuuto Kiba.

Also recognized under the title of 'Demon Sword Creation.'

Sword Birth is a rather simple Sacred Gear, in that its purpose and functionality is almost given in its name. Sword Birth offers its user the ability to produce swords from almost nothing. And make, and this is no short emphasis on the word, _lots_ of them. Potentially hundreds, based entirely around what the possessor is capable of thinking of and producing it through sheer use of mental and magical force.

And these swords imagined could stretch almost beyond believable capability. Swords which eat light, devour fire, and produce effects only the rarest of magical or arcane items could even begin to possess. The Sword Birth is only limited by what the user is capable of imagining, understanding, and possessing the magical fortitude to conjure the weapons they think up. With the obvious downside being based around the effect desired, more energy and power would be required to maintain its form. And if its user was mentally insufficient or distraught while using what weapon that was summoned forth, then the weapon would be as weak as its master.

Sword Birth has been used by some of the greatest warriors throughout human history; Charlemagne, Miyamoto Musashi, William Wallace. There prowess in battle lived on through the ages, and each of their prized weapons were forged by their imagination to suit their needs without fault.

They, however, were not men of remarkable arcane ability. Their true potential in using Sword Birth was, by extension, quite limited to making simple constructs. But even in their limited capacity, they were recognized for their craft and fighting prowess for centuries after.

Kiba was, as fate would have it, the first Devil to possess the Sword Birth since its creation. And his magical abilities, though not to the levels of Bishops or similarly magical beings, was still of a far more notable capacity than the Sacred Gear's predecessors.

He was expected to do great things.

* * *

Over the years, Kiba expanded on his use of Sword Birth. Studying it, practicing with it, consulting with himself on the true nature behind just how far the Gear's full capabilities could be pushed. Hours upon days upon months of grueling exercise were put into unlocking its potential. To drive himself forward, beyond what many believed possible for someone of such a young age. And where once, it was believed that the Sacred Gear could do little more the reconstruct the imagery of a bladed weapon from one's mind into reality, leaving Sword Birth's wielder weary and worn from its conjuring. Now, its potential seemed vastly more, as the Knight of Gremory decided to effectively give such beliefs the middle finger while calling forth dozens of blades of different sizes, capabilities and uses, with barely the need to even raise a finger. Their very creation marking whatever moment he saw fit best to use them for. And with his educated person, he found himself adept at producing a weapon to suit whatever the situation called for in the blink of an eye.

He was not simply a genius by basis of education, but by combat as well.

But the current technique which now pressed the young Uzumaki back was not the simple projection of sharpened steel which Sword Birth became famous from. Rather, this bladed ability was of a more unique variety; a resulted development from Kiba's intensive training in the Underworld. By driving his blade into the surface of the earth and channeling his demonic power through the weapon, he discovered this new technique by pure coincidence (and nearly made himself into a Devil-sized pincushion for his troubles). Powered by his will and control over the energies within, Kiba could expand and duplicate his weapon by almost the hundreds, giving his close-ranged abilities a much needed long-ranged skill.

Dozens of blades coursed underneath the earth at quickened speeds and unseen by the average eye. Its potential was certainly startling for the unsuspecting party. It might have even been considered genius, if Kiba wasn't so modest as to shrug and laugh off such declarations with an inspiring modesty.

Fittingly, he would go on to bequeath the name of this new technique as the '_Sword Eruption_,' as per suggestion by the teen he was now trying to skewer.

Speaking of…

_SHRINK! SHRINK! SHRINK! SHRINK! SHRINK! SHRINK!_

The blades continued to rise from the earth, making something of a field of swords out of the once pleasant clearing. The sounds of their coming were loud and somewhat unpleasant as they grinded against one another, and the grass beneath them were unruffled and torn from their roots, barely capable of hindering the sharpened steel.

And all the while, Naruto stepped back, only ever moving just enough to avoid the oncoming swords.

Casual. Unafraid.

His attention was kept towards the earth, as Sword Eruption continued to make havoc across the opened field. His movements were enough to keep out of range of the technique, and even with the time seeming to pass quite slowly, the actual length of the moment from which Kiba initiated his own technique was actually quite short.

Perhaps…thirty seconds? Just under a minute? Somewhere in that field of time. Avoiding the scathing metal made counting the moments difficult. Taking care of one's life by the mere blink of an earthly second made time seem as if to slow in anticipation for the next attack. But the human was mostly certain little time had passed, even if the moment felt longer.

_SHRINK!_

Another sword escaped from the ground, avoided again as Naruto tilted his head back and made another short leap back from where the multitude of metal began rising from the earth.

He would only be given a moment's peace before he would need to move again. But in that small moment, he turned his eyes over to the user of Sword Birth. And what he saw did not surprise him.

Kiba now stood from where his previous downed position was. His hand still held the sword he plunged into the earth, but now it was not as deeply pressed as before. Just enough to ensure his technique work.

But his form was slouched. The grip on his weapon was looser than was normal for him. And from his hard expression a small bit of sweat began to smoothly fall down his brow. His breathing became slow and tired, looking only too ready then to fall to a crouch and regain some form of energy that was sorely lacking from his person.

But still, he persisted in his attack.

But for how long, Naruto could not say.

Sword Eruption required a significant amount of energy to sustain. More so than the simple producing of blades of which Kiba was familiar with. In addition, Sword Eruption required a procured weapon to be pierced into the earth, a rather showing detail of the move to anyone familiar with its use, and the spawning blades from beneath the earthly floor could only move a certain distance away from its wielder.

A telling move with limited reach and costly to one's stamina. Naruto admittedly noticed how the blades began to slow in their pursuit as time passed and the distance between Devil Knight and human furthered. Their protrusions became more scattered, their eruption speeds dulled, and fewer blades began to rise from in front of him. The only conclusion he could guess was that Kiba was beginning to tire, which might have seemed odd to anyone watching, as his proficiency with Sword Birth was vast and with many years of experience in its use. Previous experiences even dictated his ability with such a technique, though fairly new to his arsenal, was more proficient than the present showing and should _not_ have tired him so quickly.

Perhaps the blow from the air to the earth had drained him more than he let on. Or perhaps it was the weariness of the day and the lack of food which began to eat away at his endurance. Devil's did possess remarkable stamina, but even still, their need for rest and nourishment could come as very human to others.

_I guess this is his limit._ Naruto thought with a noticeable frown, taking a long leap backward as a few blades rose to attack him again. _I should focus on getting the others out here. Give him a moment to rest and-_

He froze again, just as his leg touched down to the earth.

A series of sounds from behind made his eyes go wide again.

_SHRINK! SHRINK! SHRINK!_

He tilted his gaze towards his rear. Three swords were already halfway to his back.

_SHRINK! SHRINK! SHRINK! SHRINK! SHRINK!_

His expression turned a little more surprised, turning his focus back to his front.

More swords. They narrowed the distance between their pointed edges and himself with a remarkably higher speed than before.

And they came from the back and front. Two directions, separated from the single group.

This was new. Naruto was not aware Kiba was capable of producing two different oncoming Sword Eruptions. Nor did he expect such a trap from the usually proud and straightforward Knight.

Could that have been what was straining him? Controlling two eruptions, via one sword? Controlling one alone proved strenuous, but two? And so secretively?

The Knight was improving.

_Good,_ Naruto thought, taking a moment to silently praise the boy who was actively trying to kill him, _you've surprised me, Kiba. Okita will be pleased._

The human actually allowed a smile to cross his face even as he once more leapt high over the field and out of the blades' reaches. Again, he found himself far above his opponents, staring down to where the four members stood as they returned his glances back pointedly.

Except for Kiba. His eyes weren't that of careful observation. Rather, he looked to almost be pleased by how Naruto had risen far above the earth. Mirthful, even, to know that his move had sent the boy skyward, yet again.

Kiba's mouth began to open wide.

And that was when Naruto realized the swords weren't the trap.

The sky was.

"Everyone!" Kiba shouted loudly, raising his sword from the earth and pointing it to the airward human. "Move, NOW!"

_Oh, nice._

Tsubaki and Tomoe were both airborne before Naruto could register the dark wings coming from their backs. The space between them was cut quickly, their weapons brought wide and poised to strike.

The Queen, a stab of her naginata. The Knight, a slash from her sword.

Naruto viewed these movements with a careful eye. There were several ways to avoid such attacks. Easily, in fact. But in that midair moment, he felt curious. Curious at what this joint attempt at his life would achieve, and to see how such an unplanned attack would perform. He was something of an expert at unplanned movements, after all.

And so, he let the attacks come.

The polearm came first and proved hardly troublesome. The weapon was aimed for his arm, perhaps with the aim of crippling or dismembering it from his body, but was found to be easily avoided by simply lifting said arm over the weapon to let it pass unimpeded. The ninja's hand caught the pole of the weapon after, disabling whatever follow-up attack the Peerage Queen had planned as he refused to let go, and thus eliminating the first threat. Tomoe's sword was only slightly more difficult. She was in range of a good kick to the jaw, if he so wanted, but settled instead with aiming the heel of his sandal into the guard of her weapon, stopping its momentum with minor effort and not even needing to waste a hand.

He watched the two again, this time expecting _at least_ some sort of emotion on their faces. But again, all he received was hardened looks.

Before he could even be curious, a dark shadow came over him, blocking out the sun.

His eyes flew overhead to see the small figure of Koneko, arm brought wide and diving forward into the air to reach his person.

Naruto's eyes followed her. A relatively powerful Rook looking to do some aerial damage, assisted by the force of gravity. That could do some harm.

Naruto reacted as only his trained body knew how, bringing his only free hand close to his chest, bending a few fingers while keeping a few pointed long, and focused quickly.

_Poof!_

A burst of smoke appeared behind himself. Admittedly, this did have a surprising effect on the Sitri Servants, who did not have the experience with Naruto's 'talents' as the Gremory. The Uzumaki, for his part, did not even acknowledge their bewilderment with a response, instead feeling a strong arm reach out from the sudden smoke and wrap its hard fingers around the back of his clothes.

Naruto did take a moment to watch as the Queen and Knight's eyes reflected the image behind him. What appeared to be, as only they felt was an apt word to use in this situation, a _replica_ of the boy had moved his fingers to the back of its originator's clothes and took hold of them roughly. The doppelganger than twisted himself, pulling his double with him, and threw him towards the earth as fast as he was able.

It was a strange sight for them. Not so much for Koneko, who was familiar with his 'doppeling' and so continued her descent unfazed. And although unable to pound the daylights out of her original target, the young Devil did manage to strike the top of the duplicate's head with a mighty swing of her tiny fists.

_Poof!_

Similar to how it appeared, the double vanished in a bit of smoke, leaving the space without any sort of sign that it had been occupied a moment before.

This was…unusual for the Sitri team. The Queen and Knight, closest to the happenstance of Naruto's latest avoidance, looked positively flabbergasted.

Koneko, on the other hand, looked definitively _unamused_ as she landed to the earth. "I hate it when he does that."

Naruto skidded on the clearing's dirt floor without real issue. The distance between himself and the teens was significant now, and neither Devil parties seemed overly intent on resuming their quick assaults.

Kiba was tired, holding himself up by his sword and panting lightly. Koneko was already settling back into a comfortable form of her choosing whilst looking slightly peeved at her failed attack's execution. And the Sitri girls – though looking weary and now clearly aware of their opponent's prevalent capabilities – readied themselves midair.

_Okay. Right. Devils can fly. Jumping bad. Probably should remember that._

If he had a choice, he would take those already airborne last. By now, it would make sense for them to become aware of his lack of mobility midflight. A fact, Naruto was certain, more members of both Peerages would only be too eager to take advantage of.

It was these thoughts that rang loudly in his mind as he began to straighten himself from his unorthodox avoidance of Koneko's descending strike, feeling the bells at his waste chime lightly from his movements. The past several minutes were understandably noise-filled and quick – he almost forgot they were there. But he supposed he would have to keep better track of them now; it would not do well to forget.

As fate would have it, however, in that moment between his planning and his consideration of the bells and his meaning to stand tall again, where he heard the shift of air and the moving of a quick something from behind…

* * *

_A few moments before…_

Saji carefully moved through the wooded area surrounding the clearing with quite breath and careful step. His eyes were careful as they made certain to take note of the blond still casually moving in the clearing's area, while also making sure to avoid the dry twigs and leaves scattered around. Perhaps it was simply his paranoia getting the best of him; leaving him to believe that even a single misstep would end his silent navigation as he moved to get behind his target.

But he was not alone.

Ruruko moved alongside Saji while making their way through the bushes and around the trees, complaining only lightly as her outfit was smudged with the light brown of dirt and harsher, darker color of mud. She held her waist-length pigtails in one hand, hoping that they would otherwise avoid the dirtied surfaces of the woods, but despairing every moment her fellow council member continued his trek forward.

She did not want him to see her like this; muddied and gross and disturbed by her surroundings.

And the _bugs!_ Oh! It was embarrassing.

The Pawn would have liked nothing more than to have waited by her King, but understood her orders. She did not want to disappoint her upperclassmen, especially the one leading her forward, so instead continued to wade through the nature around with a grimace.

Her fellow compatriot and Rook, in contrast, seemed almost_ elated_ with the way things were happening. Tsubasa found this whole challenge to be most enjoyable experience. And only seemed to gradually prove more so, by the minute.

Sure, Tsubasa was as tired and hungry as the rest of her team – she definitely felt a little _drool_ pass down her lips after smelling the delectable foods which hid behind their opponent's bag – but was of a more positive emotion to the current happenings around the clearing which neither the damp trees nor the earthly muck could dull. In fact, it was rather the opposite; the prospect of getting _down and dirty_ was only helping to excite her further.

The Sitri Rook happened to be the eighth child of her family and the lone girl to be born from the Yura household. And having been raised alongside seven older brothers, Tsubasa took after their more aggressive and reckless attitudes than maybe her parents would have otherwise liked. Mud wrestling, kickboxing, sumo wrestling – she loved it all. She was barely even able to walk or form words in her mouth before her oldest was teaching how to chokehold someone into unconsciousness, using her brothers as guinea pigs to her adorable amusement.

By the time she reached high school, Tsubasa was all but ready to join the academy's disciplinary squad. And might have excelled under the position, had Sona not offered her a second option.

But anyway, Tsubasa did keep an eye on Naruto as he fought against the four Devils. More out of concern for if she and her party would be caught in their movements by a sideways glance on his part, but also out of curiosity to how he moved. Being a Rook meant she was made for the frontlines; she held little doubt she would be needed in challenging this opponent soon. The thought of getting up close and personal to Naruto gave something of a cheer to her person. She was of a tomboy attitude, as she and many of Kuoh Academy would openly acknowledged, so the thought of going all-out on someone like the human teen was somewhat appealing to her.

She watched as Kiba was tossed to the floor with his attack failing via _magazine_. Observed how, by seemingly light effort, the Uzumaki avoided the rising metal which sprang from the ground soon after, looking as if only mildly distracted by the Knight's assault rather than concerned for its capability in flaying his flesh. Or how now, as he leapt into the air, Tsubaki and Tomoe met him head on and were handled without so much as a look of discomfort or worry.

He might as well have been reading his provocative material again, for all that the four teens had accomplished.

But then the moment came after, where to the surprise of Saji and his group, a double of the human appeared out of thin air to assist in his avoidance of the human wrecking ball that was Koneko. Their surprise only lasted momentarily as the boy was flung by his poofed-up partner, landing with a sharp skid on the ground.

The distance between himself and the four Devils was significant now. Tactful. No way any of them would get the drop on him now.

But the distance between Saji and the human was now considerably lessened.

The Servants of Sitri stood still, none daring to make a move. Their breath halted in their lungs while their toes curled in anticipation. Their orders were to wait until called. Saji had his Gear ready and waiting to be used, positioning himself. From their point in the woods, they were hidden, but the distance for which Absorption Line could be used was short. They would need to come out from their place, quickly, and attack the boy before he could make himself aware.

Risky did not begin to describe their plan of attack now. Sona would know this. She was brilliant like that.

But still, when would Saji get a better opportunity to use his gear than now? Sona would also know this.

Naruto began to straighten himself. It was all happening so slowly; so _enticing_ was his open back.

Defenseless.

Ruruko's fingers shook. Tsubasa's lips stretched wide in an anticipating smirk. And Saji swallowed a load of something which stuck to the back of his throat, his job the most important.

The moment needed to happen now or all of their planning would fumble.

And Sona knew this.

A cobalt colored glyph appeared, no thicker than paper and just as wide as Saji hand, beside the male Pawn's ear.

The whisper of his King made its way to his ear. Offering only a single, soft word to him.

"_Go._"

The three leapt from their place of hiding, moving into the clearing. Tsubasa stood on guard, Ruruko beside her. Saji took to their back some feet behind, lifting Absorption Line and aiming towards the blond human.

"Absorption Line!" Saji called out, feeling the suction of his gear forcefully take hold of his demonic power, preparing itself in a quickly manner. Almost as if it were alive. "Attack!"

The Sacred Gear responded to the command. The twin violet jewels which seemed to make up the black gauntlet's eyes lit with an almost fiery glow, alighting his arm in a glow of indigo.

From the point of his arm, the gauntlet cracked itself in half only a small bit, revealing a hole in its design that wasn't so clear to see as before. It almost seemed as if it were a mouth, by the way of its design seeming like a face, as a bright sapphire light escaped its 'lips.' From the 'mouth' shot a line of rope of deep cyanic coloring, almost as if it were made of thickened light. More alike to a tongue jutting from the mouth of a lizard, the streak of shining blue moved past its own mouth, past its wielder's two guards, and shot through the air towards the unwary human.

Naruto did not seem to be aware of the attack as it came, even as the blue glow of Absorption Line's tongue arced itself under his arm, around his torso, and then around his back. This action made quick work of wrapping itself twice around the human's chest, going taunt and unyielding in its hold. Almost as if the rope were suctioning itself to the boy's clothes.

Bright blue eyes widened as he now seemed aware of whatever force now caught himself in its hold, turning his head around with a panicked look across his face.

Saji allowed his lips to curve into a successful grin.

"Now, Absorption Line! Restrain!" He commanded again, feeling the gear respond in its own way. The line which held its opponent turned a darker shade of blue, looking less like glowing neon and more like cobalt stone. Almost as if it was hardening from its dark gauntlet towards its trapped human.

Naruto actually tried to struggle from its grip, but to no luck. The wrapping held tight, seeming to pass its power of hold through his person. His legs felt tight and uncompromising, twitching as if willing themselves to struggle and move but otherwise disobeying their owner's commands. A similar coloring of dark blue came over his legs; the demonic energy of Black Dragon's Pulse unyielding in its now vice-like grip.

The boy was stuck.

"I got him!" Saji yelled. He could see Tsubaki and Tomoe stiffen in the air, their weapons already poised and their bodies leaning forward in movement. He did not need to give them the order, as they flew forward on dark wings towards the immobilized youth.

Said boy saw their coming with alarm.

But the Servants of Sitri were not alone, for underneath Sona's Queen and Knight the lone swordsman of Gremory sprinted. His face was sweated and looking quite strained. Eyes half open and mouth wide, gasping for needed air. A clear need to cool himself and regain some form of energy was obvious to his face, but the moment to attack was now. His prowess as a fighter would not relent such an opportune moment to be missed; uncertainty in the back of his mind told him that such a chance may not have happened again if he were to allow something as simple as fatigue to dull his warrior senses. And even with the two combatants above him, both far and shown capable in their unique choice of weapons, Kiba felt something similar to obligation to see his opponent done in with his own sword.

Neither parties seemed interested in fighting the other. Their goals were the same.

Saji watched it all with a silent appreciation. From Kiba's staunch keeping to combat without need of rest to the unspoken truce still in play between Peerages, there was a pleasing sight to the madness unfolding. And now, with his opponent thoroughly had by his own move, this day was starting to turn in quite a wonderful manner.

Naruto's hands still writhed around the strain of the line, hoping to rip the hold through means of brute force and only to discover he could not. Whatever sort of odd material made up Absorption Line's tongue, it didn't give way easily. It was sticky and hardened at the same moment, with the human finding it odd how his fingers felt as if they were grazing over sandpaper while also being stuck to it like some sort of adhesive.

Blue eyes moved from the tightly wrapped _whatever_ and towards the three Devils now little more than a _foot_ from his side.

Their weapons swung out to meet him.

* * *

Devils were, by their very physiology, extraordinarily durable creatures.

Truly, their endurance and ability to keep fighting was unquestionably above the common creature, as the centuries past of constant warfare and conflict have undoubtedly shown. Even with their bodies being less heavy or large as to that of trolls, ogres or giants; all walks of existence knew to never doubt a Devil's prowess. Like any beast of land or air or sea, when cornered or confronted with a great challenge, the inhabitants of the Underworld oft found strength they themselves were unaware of and managed to fight off superior numbers throughout their combative history.

However, a fact remained the same, nonetheless.

Be they of the Underworld, the human world, the Heavens above or some far away world of unknown Creation – sharpened pieces of metal being pushed deep into the thigh, shoulder and bicep hurt like _hell_.

Humans, such as Naruto, were no exception to this rule.

Rias did manage to hold some form of composure as the three weapons pushed into her nephew, feeling only the need to take in a long breath as she heard the tearing of cloth and bones from her place. Her eyes widened, her fingers wrapped themselves tightly into fists and glowed a violent red, while her expression read as if seeing something unexpected.

The boy still breathed. The wounds were not fatal. But Rias felt unexpected discomfort watching his blood begin to pour forth from his wounds.

Her mouth was held shut and tight, maybe to hold back the need to shout or whimper. It felt dry, too, and she was certain it wasn't due to heat or thirst. She tried swallowing, but it did little to help or alleviate the weight in her throat. Even thinking about avoiding the sight of Naruto was not as easily done as she might have wished.

Of course, this was not the first-time Rias experienced violence. Blood and the suffering of others did not faze her as it once had in her younger years. Her training in the Underworld and practice with Strays prepared her for such views. But seeing Naruto twitch in pain as he looked over his wounded person made her feel…uncomfortable.

She was not the only one to react.

"Oh…oh Naruto-kun…" Asia's whisper was unnerving on the Gremory side of the area. She might have been crying, Rias could not say. Her focus did not waver from her nephew. But she thought she could make out the former-nun's form nervously shifting and shaking as she looked over the clearing. "Please be alright, please…" She was hopeful, at least.

Akeno appeared more stable than the others. She simply watched without expression, neither appearing uncomfortable with the sight nor exceptionally enthused.

She simply watched the boy from behind the trees.

"He'll be fine." Rias stated loudly. Her voice still held strength to it, but also an obvious uncertainty to the moment's happenings. It wasn't particularly loud; not enough to be heard by the boy she stared towards, but enough to garner some attention and curiosity from the women around her. "Naruto-kun…he's dealt with worse." This was true. "Just give him a minute and he'll-"

_Poof!_

* * *

Sona was closer to Naruto when the attack happened.

She could hear the metal as it pushed past the human's clothes. She could see how the metal tore so easily through his skin and bone. She felt his pain by his stricken breath alone, as glints of steel made their way out of his back. By comparison to her two Bishops, whom seemed to be holding back their own vocal concerns and worries from escaping their lips, the Sitri King looked positively peaceful.

Outwardly, of course.

Her plan went without a hitch. Better, even, than she suspected it would. A plan she did not wholly expect to end in such a result.

She planned for his escape, she would admit. She planned for her elusive friend to have avoided or even worked through Saji's attack and already had spells ready for his next move. And if that did not occur and, by chance, her Pawn's Sacred Gear did manage to prevent his movements then she expected some minor to severe damage by the weapons. He would guard against them, taking some form of injuries by his shielding, but would be open for one of her two attacking Servants to take hold of the bells. Tsubaki, undoubtedly, would have seized the opportunity in a normal circumstance.

Of course, this last possibility was more of a hypothetical incidence or silent hope than anything else. Naruto was crafty. Getting his bells would probably take more time and effort.

Those were her thoughts.

The three Devils handled themselves well, all things considered, for piercing their colleague so viciously. Kiba held his sword tightly, its metal pressed deeply into Naruto's leg, rendering any additional movement impossible even with Absorption Line's power. He did not look so bad for someone stabbing his weapon into another person, especially his longtime friend. But she was aware of the young man's temperament since their first meeting, so perhaps fighting friends came with a certain ease she was not aware of.

Tsubaki and Tomoe were different, if only a little. They kept their weapons pointed, holding the boy back, but with minor bouts of hesitation and uncertainty in their eyes. Stabbing someone who wasn't a stuffed dummy was probably new for them – their experience with conflict in life was limited. Controlled training environments and practice bouts were one thing, but actual combat? Their pasts kept their minds active and comparable to her own so that they might have worked easily out in the clearing. They might have imagined this just like any of her exercises; hard, heart-pumping, but ultimately safe for everyone.

No death, no serious injuries; just a challenge which, in the end, everyone would find themselves laughing about. After all, Naruto was only a single human against over a dozen Devils. What challenge would that be? They would best him then move on from the moment.

Simple. Easy, even. No worries or concerns.

Their thoughts changed, obviously, with Naruto's little showing of himself; a showing which made obvious that this challenge was heralded by someone of capability and strength. Which, thankfully, was the reason why they now handled their peer with an appropriate resolve and manner. They were not hesitant in their taking him and Sona would acknowledge their ability to press forward with their attack, telling them they did adequately later.

But the outcome of her human friend's actual taking of damage was…unexpected.

The King opened her mouth to say something. Maybe to convey her uncertainty on this unexpected turn or to offer words to her Servants in preparation to move against the Gremory Peerage. Maybe she only wished to speak or make something of a sound to break the chill and stillness around them from the successive attack.

But her mouth barely opened to halfway to where she would have liked before a rather evident sound rang out into the clearing.

_Poof!_

A cloud of smoke blew out from Naruto's body. It burst from every inch of his person, covering him in its whitish shade.

It wasn't a screening for escape. The amount of smog was too little for that, barely carrying out from his figure. And the Queen and two Knights still recognized their weapons were engaged in _something_ thick and rough, even as their worry turned to surprise by the appearance of this colorless haze.

It was another bout of smoke similar to with the conjuring of Naruto's double, it came and left as quickly as it came. But where before, a perfect copy of the boy flew ready and waiting to help its twin, now a stranger thing took the place of where the blond once was.

In the place of the pained youth now stood a tightly strung together _scarecrow_.

Four limbs, hay-made, a perfect semblance of man.

Simple.

But this mannequin of feed and fiber was not simply that – _nooo_. From its tightly threaded arms and legs, this replacement to the human teen's position wore a matching colored set of shorts and hoodie, complete with a rather pointed top of its head to as if match the Uzumaki's hair. Even where its face would be, a coy smile could be found. Threaded together between the stocks of hay, the smirk of the scarecrow had a light-making of a tongue sticking out in an attempted 'blowing a raspberry,' in addition to the curve of its eyes to make it seem as if it were delighted by the present happenings.

Instead of being irked at again being duped, it seemed the Queen and Knights decided to take a moment's breath. They had been tricked, sure, but it seemed the revelation that they didn't just _acupuncture_ their colleague left them a bit light-headed but happy. That thought alone, at least somewhat, relieved a stress which lingered in the air.

But now, where was the blond?

The Sitri King already began her search. Her cool gaze went over the grass, the trees close and far, and moved with a certain tenacity most commonly seen by predators looking for their next meal. She did not appear to be panicked yet but felt as if she were the only one to significantly care for the threat still wandering around. Her Bishops let out some tired and relieved breaths from their lungs at the thought that maybe their friends did not ruthlessly stab the boy in the clearing, her Knight and Queen were still ripping their tools out from their hay-made opponent, while her Rook and Pawns seemed only too confused by-

Sona found him.

Behind her newest Pawn. A small movement behind his shadow caught her eye.

Naruto hands were coming together, making something of a gesture between them. A few fingers pointed upwards, a few curved as if making a fist – she'd seen this sort of thing with him before. And she was only all too aware when he made such a signal that he was then able to produce results profound and almost magical in nature. Dangerous and destructive, even, if he so desired.

Saji and his guards were completely unaware as he crouched behind.

And that is when Sona screamed.

"_Saji, get out of there!_"

* * *

_Well, they certainly have a handle on the whole 'kill me' thing._ Naruto thought to himself, his expression mirthful and amused as he watched his little placeholder spew pieces of cut hay from its back and front. He laid crouched into the shadow of Saji's person, unnoticed by the youth or his guards, and quietly looked over the surrounding area. His dummy seemed none-to-dismayed as it undoubtedly still had the sewn smile on its face, even as sharpened steel was ripped from its posture.

The trio of weapon-wielders looked put off by this disturbance and replacement of character struck. Tomoe and Tsubaki were bewildered, eyes widened and blinking as if caught in some illusion. While Kiba, though winded, fixed his appearance to seem calmer and more controlled than the situation was allowing him. The Sitri Servants could not be blamed for their lack of awareness to the human's abilities, or their stunned outlook on them. Sona only held a small understanding of his full capabilities, barely enough to convey her true fears towards the Son of Lucifer. But the Gremory Knight was different; having grown up alongside his friend and seen this tactic done several times, he was more familiar with this sort of happening than he cared to admit. Maybe he was even quietly cursing himself for falling for such a simple ploy again and at such a crucial moment. It was difficult to say.

But to be fair, how many in Creation would actively suspect someone to burst into smoke and be replaced by, say, a log or scarecrow from seemingly nowhere?

Answer: very few.

Whatever surprise or worry there might have been on the human's distinctive features, with Naruto's body run-through thrice without issue, was now replaced with quiet amusement. A look which would leave anyone to wonder if there ever was true worry to his features the moment prior.

Secondly, he did take notice of a flash of light coming from further down the wooded area. He could make out Sona's expression from there, along with her remaining Servants alongside her, as she already began her search for him.

She was tenacious, he'd give her that. He wondered if Rias was of a similar mind to search for him. He had yet to see her crimson hair since the match began, though he once or twice thought he heard Asia from the bushes, whimpering for a reason or another.

He'd have to draw them out sooner or later.

But now was not the time. Now, instead, he was offered a rather unique moment as he stood in the shadow of the recently turned Pawn of Sitri. The youth was unguarded and unprotected from his back, leaving himself hopelessly open. In fact, Naruto had a particular manner by which he could cause a situation to occur with only minor injury, if he so desired. It would certainly be a way of garnering everyone's attention back to him.

_Hmm. But should I? Or should I not?_

It was, as he reflected from personal experience, a move of _immense_ brutality and unconventional occurrence that he questioned whether Saji deserved to have such a punishment dealt onto him. In his mind, he was a dumb little shit when his sensei brought his own technique down (or rather, 'up') on him, with little mercy or care to be found.

Could he really be so devious? So twisted? To one so green and unprepared for what would come next?

He wondered that for only a moment, looking pensive as he still kept out of sight from the Devil teens, then shrugged.

_Yeah, I probably could_.

He brought his hands together, twisting fingers into their needed positions, and began to aim himself towards the backside of his peer. His eyes glistened in a harsh, distinctively twisted manner.

That's when he heard the yell.

"_Saji," _Sona's voice cried out, startling everyone enough for eyes to turn towards the forest's edge. This was perhaps the first most had ever heard her voice spoken at such volumes, "_get out of there!_"

The Pawn only had time to look confused even as the eyes of several Devils quickly fell towards him. The looks he received were both stunned and frightful, with many looking mildly worried as if wanting to scream out further warnings to the unsuspecting youth.

It was, however…

"_Too late._"

Naruto offered as many words to the youth, watching as Saji perked his head around and only just noticed the boy in his shadow.

In response to this movement, the ninja's fingers rose.

And what happened next would be engraved into the minds of the Devils for decades to come.

But for Saji, it would be an experience he would _never_ forget.

"Secret Taijutsu!"

_**POKE!**_

"_ONE THOUSAND YEARS OF DEATH!_"

"DE_-YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR**RRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!**"_

* * *

It's a bit horrifying what Naruto did. Visually, at least, for those watching.

Rias felt her face contort with pained horror, mouth opened and eyes disbelieving of what they just witnesses. "Oh, geez. _Naruto_…"

Asia moved her hands over her lips and held a prevalent red to her cheeks. "My goodness." What she viewed would, unquestionably, leave a mark on the poor second-year boy.

Akeno, meanwhile, gave up her attempt at stealth as she began to laugh rather recklessly from behind the bark and leaves. "O-oh my, Naruto-kun! Y-you…!" She laughed a little harder, finding it difficult to form sentences or words in that moment.

From the other side of the woods, the two Sitri Bishops watched their friend's punishment without amusement.

"He is trash," Momo repeated her declaration of the boy once more, looking harder and fiercer then before. "Absolute, without question, _garbage_."

Reya looked aghast but could not offer any words to argue against such a crude observation. Perhaps she even agreed, for who could ever be so…so…_uncouth_ as to use such an attack!

But Sona's expression was unquestionably the most taken by what she'd seen. Her glasses were tilted from their position on the bridge of her nose, eyes wide and holding an evident perplexity to them, while her mouth weighed open with a practical gape. Her entire visage indicated an absolute incomprehension to what she'd just viewed. Although, whether it was due to the damage dealt onto her Pawn or the fact it was her longtime friend to deal such an absurd and harsh attack, it was difficult to say. She did not recover from her stupor as quickly as she usually would from such an unexpected sight.

And then that left only those still in the clearing.

Of course, those nearest to the Saji – Ruruko and Tsubara, for example – were visibly disturbed by the happenings, as the Pawn's scream resounded through them with a chilling effect. Its sheer volume alone echoed for some distance past the clearing, as if it were the cry of some great animal. It was almost terrifying. The visual alone of what occurred was horrific enough, but with the ear-splitting cry, Peerage morale seemed to weaken and fail briefly.

Tsubaki and Tomoe were no different from their fellow servants. Undeniably, being familiar with the Pawn, both held a level of worry and concern for his wellbeing.

Tomoe herself appeared the worse of the pair, visibly holding back tears and flustered expression after watching her younger Pawn be sent skyward from their human opponent. While Tsubaki appeared actually quite similar to her King; dazed, confused, and with a look which spoke volumes of her disbelief at what just occurred.

Kiba found the whole visual to be an uncomfortable experience to watch, wondering if he would be dealt a similar blow. His body curled itself tightly at the thought, only wondering how he would deal with such a blow himself should Naruto feel particularly ruthless that morning.

He decided, amidst a wave of self-preservation, to keep his guard ready.

And then there was Koneko. Out of everyone, she unanimously looked the least fazed by whatever caught everyone's distraught. She neither looked bothered or caught off-guard by whatever had just occurred to her eyes.

However, the young ashen-haired Rook could not resist putting in her two cents over Saji's dilemma.

"_Savage_."

And then that left only the last of the Devils, Saji.

"Ahhh…aah…ooooh…"

Saji laid some fifty-plus feet away from his original position. Stunned, pained expression for all to see, his posture was slouched over the grass. The tiniest of whimpers and cries could be heard from his lips, the only clue he was still conscious or breathing. And now, while the look and sounds were nothing at all exceptional to the parties watching, it was rather how he was – for lack of better word – _prostrated_ on the earth which made the moment all the more harsh and unforgiving. The Devil teen held his rear to the sky. His hands went around to his backside and attempted to soothe whatever ache was prominent. And by his earnestness for which he swept his fingers over his behind, uncaring of those whom might judge him or perhaps not even noticing through the pain he felt, the idea that whatever discomfort he felt must have been considerable was made all the clearer.

"Oh-oh-oh…tsssk…aaaeeh…"

As his cries continued, Naruto watched from his original spot, doing little in the way of movement besides returning to his full height. His hands disconnected and lost whatever gesture they'd created, now comfortably resting inside his pockets while his eyes entertained the going-ons around him.

He was not surprised by the reactions he could see. Secret Taijutsu: One Thousand Years of Death was, arguably, the most unorthodox of Naruto's destructive arsenal of capabilities. It's not particularly flashy, though it most certainly grabs the attention of those around. It's not particularly a difficult move, requiring no actual energy or chakra in its use, though perhaps at least some focus and precision in its completion. And despite its rather exaggerative and impressively sounding name, it really only had the preparatory requirement of needing to be behind one's adversary.

The basis for how to set up the technique was a simple one.

First, make sure your hands are tightly pressed together, as if making a rock out of your fist. Then, have a few fingers pointing straight. Preferably four.

Second, have a clear opening towards an opponent's lower backside.

Third, position oneself low and aim towards the center of the opposition's lower back. The crack of the posterior, specifically.

And finally, drive fingers forward towards targeted area.

For a lack of subtlety or sophistication, One Thousand Years of Death was, by its very design, an exaggeratedly named all-mighty _finger poke _up the _**ASS**_.

Its effects were devastating, nonetheless.

In fact, Naruto could recall the first use of the technique on his person and its rather extreme reaction towards his own team.

The reactions and viewings were…amusing, he supposed. At least for his sensei.

And as it so happened, his first venture with the mighty finger thrust happened in an almost exactly similar situation as today.

With a test. Involving bells. And a requirement to come at a man with the intent to kill.

It definitely made the top ten most embarrassing moments of his previous life.

Now, of course, maybe Naruto had tried a little too hard to perform such a wicked technique in such a similar setting. He really had no need to use it; he could have done just as easily without. But then, he was trying to return to something which egged at the back of his mind.

Perhaps he sought a form of nostalgia alongside his little game.

Well, be that as it may, it would seem Saji was more reactive towards One Thousand Years than he was. The boy had yet to stand upright, deciding the present was a more readily available time to nurse his 'pierced bottom,' while his compatriots looked none-to-ready in wanting to jump into the fray.

But in truth, how many would like to pick a fight with a guy who sends Devils flying via ass-poke?

_Sorry, Saji_. Naruto quietly apologized, bringing his hands together in a silent prayer. _I can only hope you'll forgive me in the next life._ He meant it in jest, and knew those around him would see it as a mocking. A silly one, at that.

But prayers and Devils don't mix.

"_Dagh!"_ Saji shook on the floor of the clearing, his face twisting even further into agony. As if something sharp had ripped through him. His hands twitched from their positions at his rear and quickly went to his head, for only a quick moment, before finding themselves returned back to their lower caressing positions.

Naruto was momentarily curious by such a scream, before looking down to his hands.

Even while out-numbered by Devils of significant ability and strength, the human at least had the decency to look sheepish by his fallacy.

…_I may need to repay Saji for that._ Afterwards, of course.

He took a step forward, the small movement intentional. He gauged the reactions from his single pace; maybe he expected Tsubara to attack in retaliation. She was the type. Ruruko, on the otherhand, was more than just a little cautious, partly due to her age and inexperience. Understandable for the young girl.

But instead, the Rook and her fellow Pawn fell a step away from him, tense and wary, as they quickly positioned themselves defensively further away some few meters.

They were scared. Or, at least, cautious.

But this was fine. No one could blame them; tired, hungry, and going up against an opponent whose all but willing to make each and every Devil around look like children? It would be folly to think so lightly of such a foe, in circumstances inappropriate for their teams.

Before the fight even began, Naruto had effectively taken the field's advantage before even stepping onto it.

_Heh. Kakashi-sensei must have had a field day with us._ Naruto mused, curling his eyes away from the stiffness of the two Servants and back towards the sakura tree. His eyes narrowed only a little, lingering over the electronic still perched by the wood's side.

"Two and a half hours left!" He shouted, turning his attention back to the Devils. Some still seemed in a stupor, while others turned to the clock themselves to check what time remained. He was right. "Who wants to go next, hmm? Any volunteers?"

He was taunting them. Taunting them into action, which no one in the clearing seemed ready to put a stop towards.

His smile, bright and cheerful and without worry, was the worst thing of all. It was little more than a smirk, coupled with a calm which only someone who felt completely in control of the situation they were in could do.

But to answer his beckoning for willing participants, it would seem someone was more than willing to respond to his calling.

"I'll volunteer." A smooth, controlled voice called overhead.

Naruto lifted his head, turning it skyward and-

_**Krrr-CRACK!**_

From the heavens, a stream of light and power fell to the earth. It hit the soil with a burst and shudder, shaking its surroundings with its sheer force and destructive flow. And worst yet, it seemed to have taken hold of the human in its wide birth, as the energy – a bolt of lightning, pure and blinding –bombarded the terrain without mercy.

How strange, it must have seemed, to see such a sight on such a clear blue day. To anyone unused to such extremities being a norm amongst Devilkin this might have seemed as if a miracle in itself.

"But I must warn you, Naruto-kun."

The voice spoke again, grabbing the attention of many Devils as they turned their eyes away from the human and upwards to a long, dark-haired beauty of a young woman hovering above. She was quite the sight; her hands coated themselves in torrents of chaotic bolts of white, bouncing and twisting through her fingers and wrists in an almost lively manner, while a pair of leathery wings stretched outward from her lower back.

Akeno Himejima could only smile down to her audience, even as the focused bit of lightning ceased its destructive display. Her cheeks turned red, as Naruto still stood under the point of her assault, but seemed riveted by his endurance. The ground laid bare and dead, with not but the dirt to remain where grass once rested, but the blond still stood with his head turned high.

His clothes seemed to have taken a hitting; his hoodie was singed and torn from place to place, his shorts seemed to have a few places burnt as if alit one moment before, and even his sandals seemed to have had their straps wearied out to the point where they seemed only to be held by a few strings.

But his appearance was still the same. He smiled up to her, now noticing her presence, and had his hands still tucked away in his pockets. His face seemed largely the same, with maybe a seeming patch of dirt or some sort of dust splashed over his cheeks, the only proof his person was even hit by the assault of energy, but otherwise he did not appear staggered by the Devil Queen aerial offensive.

But if Akeno was displeased by this lack of damage dealt, it did not show. She smiled, in fact, for those who could see, a little more fondly, her cheeks crimsoning an aroused red.

"I can be a _real_ pain in the ass to deal with!"

The smirk grazing Naruto's lips allowed for a small laugh to escape as his friend 'talked-the-talk' down to him. He would admit, Akeno caught him by surprise. He neither sensed her presence nor expected her attack. Not so soon, at least.

Naruto actually found himself proud of her. The old leader saw her improvement as a progress which needed to be encouraged, even if such a skill could and probably would be used against him. Not even his successor showed such aptitude in her younger years, and she was a brilliant ninja in every stretch of the word. And while the end result of her magically generated lightning was not particularly devastating or harmful – at least in the way to himself – it was still a wonder that her ability to sneak by his awareness was as effective as it was. He, the former Hokage, did not feel her attack come until the very last moment.

_Way to go Akeno._ He mentally praised, moving a hand to his shoulder to pat out the remains of burnt cloth which threatened to alight his hoodie. But this was the worst of the damage dealt to his person, as this occurrence was hardly the first time he had need to deal with a lightning user. Or, on a more specific example, the first time he'd dealt with Akeno's basis of magically generated elemental practice. Which, while still potent and borderline deadly in its own rights, was _scarcely_ what Naruto could recall the true power of nature's storm was capable of.

And he knew, by intense memory, what it was to feel the full force of a bolt of lightning.

Thousands, even. Directed to himself, specifically.

It hurt. A lot.

But now was not the time to wonder on the differences and potencies between nature and magic. Instead, the focus needed to return to the present concern; time was still running, and Naruto barely felt the enjoyment he so sought. Nor did his challenge come close to completion.

Not by a _long_ shot.

And so, as the saying goes, 'the show _must_ go on.'

"Funny!" He shouted to his friend, his features lowering into a stance. The first time, in fact, since arriving in the clearing. He now looked ready to fight. "People say the same thing about me!"

_Time Remaining: 2 hours, 28 minutes, 32 seconds…_

* * *

**Okay, I wanted to offer a quick chapter before Thanksgiving. This isn't my usual 50k chapter, but I'm sure most of you will be pleased.**

**I will be working on the second and third parts of this chapter soon, so no worries. This chapter was just a way to answer the MANY requests that I update my story more often.**

**And I can. I can update. But I just need time to make an excellent chapter (or, at least, above average).**

**And remember! I update on ****Saturdays****! Last update was on Friday and was a mistake on time brought on by inconveniences I won't bore you on.**

**Well, nothing else to say, just hoped you all enjoyed the chapter! And to wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving!**


	10. God's got one Hell of an Alarm Clock pt2

**Okay, I'm alive. Excuse? I lost my work on this chapter awhile back.**

**Which sucks. A lot.**

**This chapter had over six-thousand words to it before I lost it. Doesn't seem like much when compared to my other chapters, but it really put a damper in my mood to write.**

**Plus, I got a job. So my time was kinda focused around getting my life together. Making money, apartment, working on a script for Warner Bros. (very hush-hush), I had a lot of me-work to figure out.**

**Now, I feel motivated again. So without further ado, here's the best I could do at remaking my work.**

**Yay…**

* * *

CHAPTER THREE: GOD'S GOT ONE HELL OF AN ALARM CLOCK PART 2

_The Underworld_

_Nine years ago…_

As was perhaps no great surprise to anyone, the Lord of Lucifer Mansion was an important man. A man of deep responsibilities.

The title of Great Satan did not come with countless parties, pleasures, and time to oneself. It was a name given only to those able and willing to uphold the requirements of long duty and service imagined by its label. A designation bequeathed only to those who have sworn to attend to their fellow Devil with the utmost of their abilities.

Such importance to the four worthy brought wonders to many. Children dreamed and pondered about the idea of becoming a Satan themselves one day, while adults imagined what responsibilities could only be upheld by their powerful rulers. What efforts must have been needed. But as what may have come as a surprise to some, the labors of the Satans were not always of some magnificent, worldly significance beyond the contemplation of the common Devil. Often, the quotidian necessities of the Underworld came off as somewhat uninteresting, or even tedious, as Sirzechs Lucifer was only too familiar with.

It was a sort of labor he had found, admittedly, a small comfort with in the last five centuries but would admit to some boredom towards, only in private with his lady.

Rare were the times when the Lord Lucifer found a moment's reprieve from his daily labors, but today was unique.

Presently, the matters of the Underworld had been settled early. His maids and servants brought in an unusually small quantity of required duties for him to put his hands into. He almost wondered if they'd overlooked some larger piece from delivery, or maybe forgotten to mention a meeting with a Household of status.

It was barely nearing midday and his papers were given their proper signatures and organized accordingly. His desk was cleared of all things even remotely under the sentiment of 'urgent' and even the more minute obligations of his position seemed to have been settled with swiftness. He couldn't remember the last time such a day had occurred. It must have been some ten years, at least. Which, even for someone as long-lived as him, was a very long time.

And so, with a satisfied grin to his lips, the Lord Lucifer left his office without a plan or action in mind.

He simply felt like taking a walk.

* * *

_The Sakura Clearing_

_Present Day_

For Naruto, Ruruko was the obvious choice when it came to deciding who to attack first.

By and large, she was the weakest of Sona's Peerage. Her overall ability was practically flaunted by her wary eyes and fidgeting form. Whereas her fellow guard held herself firmly down, Ruruko possessed nothing in the way of such confidence. Her personal history lacked the foundation of physical training that her fellow members held and it showed.

He saw this easily.

She offered her own punch when he narrowed the short way between them, catching her fist without issue before giving her the most casual toss away he could.

He didn't hurt her. At least, nothing severe. She stumbled, screeched a little, then fell into the dirt clumsily.

It was a simple move. Like dealing with a child.

Tsubara was less inefficient. Her strength was more significant than his. Her speed, not as troublesome, but Naruto still curved his body to avoid her first attacks.

He stepped back. Once. Twice. Thrice. They were obvious attempts; her training wasn't as conventional or precise as some of the others. It was informal, rough and aggressive. Basic. And in a way, she reminded him of what he was once like: no tact, 'flailing angrily' in the hopes of hitting something or anyone. Though she lacked the belligerent growling or yelling he used to be so fond of. No doubt hunger had some measure of detriment to her performance but additional training would serve her well. Sona would see to that in the summertime.

She overstretched on the sixth move. And he caught her extended limb, giving her a quick spin before tossing her to the earth.

Or, rather, onto the still downed Pawn. Ruruko's hunger seemed to be forcing her back more than it showed, and she was too slow to stand back before the toss.

The two fell neatly to the dirt. A Rook piled onto a Pawn.

And that's when Tomoe, Kiba and Tsubaki came.

Tomoe was first. She was of a similar speed to Kiba but less hindered by injury. Though he did not let it show openly – less it wound his pride – the Devil male was still nursing himself after his airborne encounter. His reflexes were marred to match that of Tsubaki now. Which meant Tomoe, the now designated fastest of the three weapon wielders, was the first to strike down on him.

She should have kept with her makeshift group.

She attempted a wide swing, again. She was of a proper distance; her weapon would easily cut him from such a length. But her opponent would not have it. He stepped forward, fast, and had his hand out to catch the handle of the weapon even as it swung forwards. His fingers wrapped around her own, somewhat proving troublesome in her wanting to release herself from the weapon's grip.

It stopped her. She was apprehended.

"Can I borrow that?" Naruto wrenched the sword from the Knight's hands. Tomoe only gave a small squeal of surprise as the weapon was removed from her grip with a relaxed ease before being tossed with a lack of gentleness to the side.

Perhaps purposely, she fell onto the still downed Rook and Pawn.

Their moans echoed obvious discontent.

Naruto brought his newly acquired sword overhead; holding it with but a single hand as two pieces of hardened steel slammed onto it. The sword held back the power of a Queen and Knight's attacks without so much as a chip in its make.

_Huh. Good sword._ The former ninja thought approvingly.

There was the gritting of teeth and silent grunts of effort as the two Devils pressed themselves down onto their weapons, hoping the leverage would work to their advantage. And Naruto, for his part, admired their efforts. His expression would almost seem entertained, in a way. As if their attempts humored him.

Kiba and Tsubaki did not share in his amusement.

Giving a light push, Naruto threw the two Devils back. They landed, returning their outstretched wings to their hidden confines before moving with increased vigor to strike down their opponent. Their movements were as coordinated as two individuals without prior practice in combat together could be. It was admirable and showed a clear trust in the others ability to silently move and react with the other's moves. But their opponent was not indifferent to their efforts. He met their quickened attacks with enthusiasm; finding a somewhat satisfaction in using his only just acquired weapon to challenge the two unquestionably talented weapon users.

They tried to surround him. Attack simultaneously. Throw him off his guard.

Kiba would stab. Tsubaki would slash. Naruto would weave and block.

How curious, really, for those watching from the Gremory House. The Uzumaki was by no means a swordsman. Kiba acknowledged this fact, even as he was pressed by his quick movements. By the way of the human's swings, his attacks seemed less towards technique and more about keeping the two Devils at bay. His movements were akin to as if he were swinging a large stick or bat, rather than an elegant weapon. He gave no care for whether he made contact with his foes – only if he pressed them back.

He was successful in those fronts. There were no openings. No missteps or feints to exploit. His simple waving of his sword proved wearying even in its lack of skillful use.

Tsubara was back to her feet. Ruruko at her side. Tomoe looked peeved at the loss of her weapon but made no efforts to leap into the mess of swords and steel.

Koneko still stood away; calmer and more relaxed than the Sitri Servants. Like a predator: waiting for her moment to leap.

And perhaps she would get her chance soon. Kiba was tiring. Tsubaki, by glance alone, was looking more worn than before. Her finesse had steadily fell. She needed a moment's breath – or food, better yet. They would run out of energy long before Naruto would even break a sweat.

Then, Kiba saw a transparent shine of blue.

"Everyone! Back!" He yelled, already in the state of moving from his enemy as fast as his feet would allow.

Those nearest to Naruto did not seem hesitant to listen. Even to an opponent such as he. They moved and not a moment too soon as great torrents of water – as wide and large as a bus – twisted and spun not like some great cyclone over the dirt and grass towards the human boy. Gravity be damned, it seemed unhindered by the rules of nature, as even its appearance seemed to contradict the rather dry environment around.

Naruto raised his arms, sword still in hand, and guarded against the onslaught.

But it was not over.

From above, Akeno had waited. She readied herself a moment before to strike down her human friend whilst he fought against the Servants of Sitri. Even if their common goal was the same, they were her enemies still. And were it not for Kiba's sudden rush into the thralls of Naruto's competition, she might have already struck down at both human and Devil teens.

But then, the teens scattered and Sona's magic came into play.

The Himejima girl saw no better opportunity. She allowed the lightning to move from her fingers and rain down onto the earth; striking the arcane liquid with little resistance. It shook and fizzled with the electricity, jolting everything from the earth to the boy with its terrifying power.

Naruto yelled from inside. His voice only just being heard from outside the rushing liquid. Akeno enjoyed his pain more than she would admit. His shakes and tightened figure brought an excited grin to her lips. A red tint to her cheeks. And while some might have called this amusement cruel, let it be of mind that this was simply in the young girl's nature to enjoy the fruits of her violent handiwork.

But the brunt of both arcane powers merging to attack a single foe was not yet over. For as the twisted laws of magic did dictate, two mystical elements conjured from two individuals now conversing within a limited space **must** be adeptly controlled to work under such conditions. Especially when in the circumstance where these powers proved to be strong opposites of the other.

Unless the merging of two energies was done intentionally, the usual result from such a feat could be…destructive…

* * *

_With Rias and Asia…_

Even to those of power and strength, caution must be kept at all moments, as even the Crimson Princess felt need to cover herself from the wind and light the Queen and fellow King's respective magics brought. The illumination and harsh brush of air was thrilling and intimidating, almost seeming as overwhelming as the two Peerage's first brush against the other at the start of this little challenge. Grass and dirt rose high once more, covering the area in its plume, while leaves on trees shifted and flew from branches, unable to endure this unstable blast.

As a warning to all who seek mastery of the arcane: while the impact of two powerful energies might have seemed vibrant and exciting to those watching from safe distances, their devastating effects on the nearby area should not be ignored. Entire forests and towns have been wiped from maps because of the improper implementation of magic. And while the Sitri and Himejima magics held nothing near the sort of power needed to level the surrounding area in their might, the chain reaction which followed their energy convergence could not be ignored.

Rias dared not look away even as she made out her nephew's form, screaming from within Sona's flood. His body writhed through the liquid whilst the arcane power of Akeno's magic danced around his skin and in his veins. His teeth were gritted tight, seeable from even her position, whilst his eyes were shut and his fingers tightened into fists. Lightning flew from his chest to his knees to his hands and even to his head, while liquids pressed tightly around his lips in a move to drown.

It all seemed quite painful.

As for Asia, the young Bishop had taken to hiding behind her King, unable to view her roommate's suffering without being allowed to assist him. Like many things, it seemed that this happening was still too much for her.

But Rias would have none of it. "Open your eyes, Asia," she commanded, "do not look away. This is something you will have to grow used to while in my service." Asia only shook her head, refusing. "I do not do this to be cruel, Asia, I do this to be _kind_," Rias moved her eyes away from the fight to pull her Bishop forward.

She struggled, a little, but Rias was stronger. She was moved with little effort to the front of her but still refused to open her eyes.

"I guarantee, this will _not_ be the first time you see this," Rias went on, "I plan to fight many battles in the future. With you by my side."

Rias slipped her hands from the girl's slender arms to her shoulders, giving a light squeeze for small comfort. She watched the scene still; Sona's attack had relented, the water now falling to the earth to form puddles, while Akeno hovered high above the rising dust. She appeared little better than Rias would have liked; she was undoubtedly weakened, as the two had agreed to forego breakfast that morning and save face incase if the others thought negatively of their vomiting. A stupid move, Rias acknowledged now. And even for one so adept in the forms of magic, the conjuration of lightning was no doubt tolling her Queen, as was likely a similar case with the Sitri King and her water.

"Open your eyes," she ordered her Bishop again, "and don't look away."

The holder of Twilight Healing could not even shrug her body away as her shoulders were held forward by smooth fingers. The voice of Rias continued to coax her into obedience by her ear. She did not wish to observe whatever she was being commanded to see; the pain of others was something she never liked to witness. And whenever she saw pain, Asia sought to ease it in whatever manner she believed would be necessary.

To friend or stranger, she was kind and always offered a hand with good intent.

But the King's beckoning rang into the former nun's ear. And for a moment, Asia did not relent to the order. Her face remained contorted and eyes held tightly closed. She did not enjoy her master's words, but a part of her worried mind did recognize the truth in them. She nursed no delusions to the reality of her position; the past month had been an experience of learning on a life she once scarcely even considered and never dreamt of having. She knew what was expected of her, which included obeying her red-haired friend command and looking out to whatever was now happening.

This acceptance of fact helped a little. Enough to press the teen into opening her eyes – slowly at first – and allow the barest of pieces of the morning's light to pass through and create a vision for her.

The first sight her eyes viewed was that of the earth. The grass was gone. Ripped or burnt away by the arcane eruption. The ground underneath was looking little better as if a part of the clearing had been eroded away to make a small dent into the planet. The dust in the air was still thick and difficult to see through. Too difficult to even see her friend and roommate. This might have been a worry for her as it was difficult to say whether this meant he was in trouble or simply biding his time. The day seemed only too willing to prove on how little Asia truly knew of the boy she lived beside. Personality, ability and capability together.

So, against her intentions or usual state of mind, her eyes wandered the clearing.

She was searching, with nervous gaze and worried face, for an opponent she would call friend later.

It was a strange look for the girl. Very strange. Rias only caught the barest of her appearance from behind but seemed to approve of whatever she was doing.

"You'll see more of this," her grip loosened around the young girl, coming off now as more of a caring touch, "and for that, Asia, I am so sorry…"

* * *

Akeno needed a drink.

Preferably tea, although water would have been just as appreciated.

Her throat was parched and she was starting to sweat. And while normally, a bit of sweat was of no issue to her – in fact, she usually preferred it; the way her clothes stuck to her skin was somewhat exciting – she now felt worry that with each bit of perspiration falling from her brow, another piece of her energy was lost as well.

The reason for her sweat was obvious; besides the clear energy-draining implications of conjuring arcane forces on an empty stomach, Akeno's body was beginning to overheat whilst performing taxing magical attacks on the hot, spring morning. Her figure was attempting to compensate for the increasing temperature by way of cooling, which only brought further sweat and the feeling of dehydration as her body worked itself with extremity to keep herself comfortable. Her clothes offered little in the way of ventilation and were, in fact, worn with the hopes of taking advantage of the cooler air the morning held. They were light, comfortable, and insulated. Preferable in use to colder days, not so much under a rising sun.

But she was not the only one to suffer.

From her place above, Akeno looked down to her friends and fellow Servants warily, taking notice of their wearied looks and, more importantly, similar outfits. Sona's Peerage wore similar outfits to herself and her friends, but this was of little surprise to her. Rias and the Sitri heiress were alike in many ways. Their choosing of similar clothes in the hopes of one-upping the other might not have seemed so odd for those familiar with the connection between them. Which meant, by her observation, it would only a matter of time before they felt the full force of the warming day.

And undoubtedly, the effects would only worsen with the day.

She could have laughed at the 'oh so' simple situation her peers had placed themselves in. These outfits were meant to aid themselves in the early morning cold which they assumed the two Peerages would be fighting in. Not in the increasing heat of the morning. It would not have surprised Akeno if Naruto had set this challenge's time to make use of this advantage. To make use of their hunger, their thirst, and now even their own clothes to weaken the numerical advantage the Devils had over him. All before he even stepped into the clearing.

_That sly boy._ She thought to herself, moving her tongue over her lips to taste the salty sweat coming over them. She could not see through the haze of dirt below just yet; the eruption had rendered her blind to the teen and now waited in the air for any sort of visual on the orange-clothed youth.

But she needn't wait long.

From the top of the plume dust, a shimmer of silvery steel flew towards her. Tomoe's weapon, Akeno quickly noticed, was moving towards her.

The youth's eyes did widen for a moment. The weapon's sudden appearance caught her unaware and unexpected.

But it proved inconsequential; the Queen of Gremory had many years' experience with flying about. Avoiding such a slender tool – quick and aimed properly towards her, though it might have been – required little more than a quick brush to the side to see it avoided and soaring past her figure.

Akeno paid it little mind after its missing. Her violet eyes moved to watch the floor below, attempting to discern where the weapon originated. Her vision loomed over every twitch of the dust as it began to wane, estimating the arc and point from where the sword came forth from while her fingers turned a shade of indigo as a small course of what seemed like electricity danced through her palm. She felt ready to send her attack forward in a blind manner of hopefully striking her opponent, yet hesitated still. Were this any other circumstance, the area around have been alit by the explosive prowess of her magic. But her weary mind and fatigue were giving her pause and worry, and so instead felt caution instead of delight in her wayward method of attack.

But then an unsettling sound came from above.

_Poof!_

In that moment, Akeno decided it was one of the worst sounds she would ever hear.

The Queen had no time to even turn before several tense fingers wrapped themselves into her wings. Her expression turned from shocked to worried as her airborne control stuttered, as a sudden feeling of nausea took over her thoughts and prevented what was once so easy for her.

She found it difficult to fly. And that feeling did not go away.

The control of her wings weakened, but did not give out just yet. She fluttered overtop the clearing with obvious intent to remain afloat. The pull on her wings begged her against such an action. They twitched and wreathed around in the grasp of the unseen attackers, while waves of discomfort and nausea followed the uncompromising grip.

The Queen felt an imbalance in herself.

She fell for a moment, but only a little.

Admirably, Akeno gave a last effort to hold herself midair. Her face was tightened while her hands tried to wrap themselves towards whatever force now had her closing the distance between the herself and earth. The attempt was admirable, with her body shaking as it fluttered in the air, but proved a fruitless effort.

She fell again. But this time, the Queen would not correct herself and so began a final, uncontrolled descent towards the green tops of trees.

The branches welcomed her into their pointed embrace.

* * *

_In the trees…_

Sona saw it all happen.

Well, _obviously,_ she saw it happen. Almost everyone around the clearing did.

The glint of steel shimmering as it flew towards her peer. The nimble avoidance followed by the metal bursting into smoke. Naruto falling from the plume to wrap his fingers around Akeno's leathery wings – _ripping_ the control from her body with a simple tug before gravity brought both friends towards the tree line.

In a matter of seconds, a Queen was rendered defenseless and beaten in a most effortless show of force.

A feeling began to grow within Sona's stomach which could be described aptly as 'disconcerting.'

The dust cleared soon after Akeno went into the trees. Naruto became visible; his clothes were a little dirtied and scratched, his hair had a little dust in its pointed locks, and maybe his left cheek had the tiniest showing that something violent had passed through him. But in all fairness, he seemed little worse than before his encounter with the magical forces. He looked untroubled, eyeing the direction where his copy sent the girl crashing towards the forest edge. Perhaps to appreciate his handiwork or maybe to see if she was alright, Sona couldn't say for certain. On most days, it would have been for the latter reason, but this weekend was causing her to question years of foreknowledge.

She made plans, of course, to deal with whatever she assumed would be brought by the boy. Lengthened strategies; envisioned outlooks; ideas towards victory – a week's worth of planning all based around prior knowledge of his personality and abilities. Even with the second condition being somewhat limited to background knowledge, Sona assumed she held at least a modicum of understanding on how he would pursue this conflict. Even if this 'bell game' was not within her vision of expectation.

Humans were capable – there was no denying that. A species doesn't survive a war between two obelisks of unfathomable power if there wasn't at least some ability to endure, adapt and press forward when opportunity appeared.

And the Uzumaki showed these traits in spades.

Under this worrisome forethought, Sona spent the week wondering and theorizing the ways to go about meeting her newly-made foe without mess-ups. He was outnumbered; a statistic she would work with. Numerical superiority won battles more often than those who won through pure ability alone. This didn't even count the advantages magic and inborn flight naturally gave to Devils. By all rights, the rulers of the Underworld logically had advantages over the average human. Advantages Sona was only too ready to make use of.

But now, flying was seeming less impressive or useful. Their magic barely left a smolder to his clothes – not to mention being costly to their already waning strength. And whatever benefit their numbers would have initially brought them was being rendered mute by his superior offensive and defensive capabilities. Add on the starvation, the weariness the early day and wait had brought her Peerage, and the increasing heat that the Japanese sun was pressing down onto themselves-

Yes. This situation was _really_ starting to suck.

But such thoughts needed to be put away, for now, as Naruto made a slow move to raise his sword overhead. No surprise he still had it; Sona was aware he could make himself, or those who bared a likeness to himself, appear alike to items or even people with a profound likeness. Undoubtedly the weapon he threw before was another of his hidden copies and the weapon in his fingers presently was the true sword of Tomoe.

He held the steel in the air for a moment. Unmoving. Garnering an intense attention from those around.

_What are you planning? _Sona wondered, eyes looking over the field. Her Peerage began to move back to surround the boy, alongside Rias's own.

They were rightfully still worried and wary.

But then, Naruto swung the sword down, only for it to slip from his fingers and fly towards the forest's edge-

_Fwish…_

The air whistled for only a moment. Quietly. Very. Sona only heard it because the noise was made just by her ear; where the weapon moved, sharpened point first, just past her ear.

_Twang._

The noise which followed was more obvious. It made her Bishops jump and yelp in surprise. The weapon had notched itself into the wood of the tree behind her; going a few inches in, perhaps.

Sona didn't bother to check. Her eyes were too wide and full shock, staring at the boy.

From her point, Naruto was easily visible. The clearing offered little in the way of hiding his position. But on the other hand, the foliage around the forest's edge offered a natural cover to her movements or person.

She thought herself hidden.

_He remembered where my attack came from,_ she concluded quietly. She hadn't moved. She wanted to see how he was and dared not move after the magical attacks erupted the area in a violent shine. But then her attention was to Akeno, then to her Peerage moving, and then back to curiously wonder what the boy was doing with the weapon.

She'd been distracted. It was her mistake.

She felt her heart miss a beat. Her fingers shook and lips twitched. Her legs felt unusually limber and threatened to give way.

She then made a move; her hand went to a branch and gave it the lightest holds.

It helped solidify herself.

But for all her troubled mind, Sona appeared quite cool. Her eyes were still hard and calculative. Her posture was already beginning to straighten; her mind unraveling from the prospect of what a less merciful or kind opponent might have done under the circumstances present. The strategist within began to think of a next move while she silently made sure to return towards an outwardly appearance of calm.

She needed to keep that notion up that she was still a King.

"We need to regroup," she said. Compliments to Sona, her voice didn't hitch or sound any different than its usual controlled tone. Her Bishops would feel oddly comforted by this in a short moment, "call everyone back. We need a plan."

* * *

_In the clearing…_

As a note to sooth any wayward worries, there should be no doubt that Naruto had complete control of the sword as it left his fingers and flew off towards the Sitri girl.

This was hardly the first moment he needed to give a great toss of something unfamiliar to his fingers towards a purposed target. In fact, he might have even considered himself an expert by the standards of this new world; there was an almost-impossible precision to his weapon throwing that might have been considered superhuman. But truthfully, in a past life, the sword-throw would have been viewed with little more than an appreciated nod at his accuracy. Not as anything special.

Still, he got his point across to her; Sona gave her position away.

She needed to move. Now.

And she began to. Just as a quiet sound began to ring around him. Focused at the members of the Sitri Heiress. Light blue sigils, glistening softly, formed around each member's ears. It grabbed their attention promptly. "_Fall back_," came a silent voice. There weren't any further words given. Or any arguments offered.

Tsubaki, Tomoe, Tsubara and Ruruko made quick movements towards the 'Sitri side' of the woods. All sense of caution was thrown to the wind. They simply wanted to get out of the clearing with what strength they still had left. All too eager to follow their retreat command to the T.

And now, of that makeshift encirclement, only Kiba remained. Koneko was some yards behind him.

The Knight had the grace to at least look sheepishly dismayed at the lacking of his previous backup while the ashen-haired teen called out a quiet curse to the retreating members of Sitri; calling for their heads on this betrayal.

To no one's surprise, a reddish glyph appeared by the two Devils' ears swiftly after.

And then, they ran.

* * *

_The Gremory Side of the Forest Edge…_

_Sometime later…_

"Okay. So," Rias began, "that could have gone better."

"I couldn't agree more, Buchou!"

"That's not helping, Akeno."

"We had our asses handed to us. Thoroughly."

"Koneko, please."

"I thought you all looked really great out there!"

"Asia, that's…_thanks_." The Bishop was trying, she really was.

Rias would not fault her for it, even as her hands went to rub her soring temples.

Asia helped Akeno and Kiba to a tree sometime after she sent her order to retreat. The Bishop helped clear away twigs and leaves from her Queen's roughed form, as her less than elegant and largely forced landing had done a number to her. While her clothes took the brunt of her damage when landing into the trees – now supporting holes and tears in its fabric – there were still small cuts and bruises around her person to which Asia eagerly went to work on fixing with the wonderful blessing that was Twilight Healing.

Rias's Knight, gentleman he was, placated Asia to his Queen first. His wounds could be healed after, he said, and claimed they looked worse than they felt.

Rias doubted his word but chose not to argue it in front of the others.

And finally, her Rook; though unsuccessful in her first bout against the human boy, Koneko was largely unhindered and awaited a return to action. Though with perhaps a lack of eagerness than before.

Which left only herself and Asia.

The Bishop, obviously, was not combat ready. At all. And Rias knew her own limits against the boy even on the best of days.

So, in summary:

"Shit," she cursed, "shit shit shit shit _shit_."

Stressful. This whole thing was so stressful.

She moved to stand by her Rook – still cursing – and glanced through a small opening between the woods and foliage towards the proprietor of her stress. Koneko decided quickly to take watch and see what move the blond might have made during their wait. To ensure their friend hadn't decided to change his mind and begin playing the offensive.

The sight of Naruto relaxing by the Sakura tree, reading his somewhat shredded magazine with a contented look, was both comforting and irritating at the same time.

Comforting in that, most likely, it meant he was not actively breathing down their necks.

Irritating because…well, that was still smut he was reading.

Oh, for certain, Rias was aware now that the material was less for his viewing pleasure and more to garner a reaction from the primarily female population. A tact which worked splendidly, she would admit with some humiliation. But the idea of seeing her nephew perusing such material gave her such an irritable feeling which readily showed on her crossed features.

By comparison, Koneko's expression differed little from her own, though she was more vocal in her distaste.

"I'm going to smack his shit."

"Not alone, you're not," Rias said, placing a hand to her shoulder to stop any unnecessary actions she might take. "Wait for the others. Going in now would be stupid."

Her words were blunt and offered little room to argue. Koneko may not have liked it, but she understood her place. She was a proud, but loyal Rook and the odds of her winning against Naruto were less than she would have otherwise admitted.

She and her wise King knew this. And so, Koneko would wait; soon joining in conversation comprised of soft whispers around plans and moves and tricks which needed implementing in the near time. All the while taking back their lost strength and morale and proving the fortitude and heart of the Lady Gremory's small Peerage was not to be misjudged.

This challenge wasn't over. Not for Rias or her friends.

Not by a long shot.

* * *

_On the Sitri Side…_

"We left Saji-san."

"He's fine."

"He doesn't look fine."

"He's breathing."

"He isn't moving much."

"He had four fingers rammed up his rear. I don't imagine he'll be moving around for a while."

"He flew really high…"

Closing her eyes and counting to a quick ten was all Sona could do to remain somewhat in control of herself over her youngest Servant's concerned whispers.

The mentioned boy still laid in the clearing, having missed the order to move back to the woods. After his running into Naruto and being sent into the sky with a following lackluster fall back the earth, Saji did little to correct his appearance. His rear quarters were still raised pointedly in the air. His expression was pained with a small twitch around his right eye. His fingers fidgeted as if still in shock and wanting to move to ease his struck behind but failed to find the energy to do so.

Saji was out of it. For how much longer, no one could guess.

It was a rather awkward look. Pride-wounding without question. And honestly, had this occurred to anyone outside her Peerage, Sona might have offered an amused smile at the view.

Naruto's attack was 'effective,' if nothing else.

Still, while Sona understood her Pawn's plight, she was also aware of her inability to remedy the problem at the moment.

"Ruruko," she said, "if you would, please stay focused."

The young teen who stared out into the clearing did turn back towards the center of the small opening of the woods to meet her King's gaze. Beside Sona, gathered around a small part of forested dirt, the rest of her friends stood while gazing towards her with focused eyes.

She realized quickly they were waiting for her.

Now, somewhat humiliated by being so distracting, Ruruko moved back to the circle her friends made and attempted to look busy and interested. Even if the corners of her eyes belied the worry of what the others thought of her then.

Sona said nothing. The Pawn was a sweet girl who was very fond of Saji. Her caring for a fellow member of her Peerage was nothing to critique.

Instead, Sona decided her focus was better put to her next plan.

Between the members of the Sitri house was what might have been best described as a makeshift strategy table. The heiress held a stick in her hands and casually drew small patterns and gestures into the ground to organize and provide her thoughts visually on her Peerage's first skirmish against the Uzumaki boy. It was a rough method to work with, but with her magic reserves somewhat weakened and worried a magical projection of her plans would drain her further, she decided this was for the best.

Her Peerage watched her work. And together, they conveyed thoughts and opinions on what occurred and what needed doing. Many of these plans were whittled down or discarded soon after conception by way of discussing their opponent's abilities. Naruto had the effect of making most ideas seem quickly ineffective or wasteful after initial conception. His arsenal for avoiding conflict or dishing out punishment against those of even reasonable and competent ability was staggering. Alone, even more so. And worse even yet was the gnawing idea brought up that maybe he was going easy on them; the thought bringing disheartening feelings of what he might have fully been capable of to the back of their minds, should he decide he was bored with this easy-going conflict.

However, Sona would not allow such thoughts to fester.

To every strategy, there was a flaw to exploit. To every defense, a weak point. To an offense, an opening.

For years, such a mentality had been pressed deep within her. Since she took her first steps. As was custom and befitting the one who was heir to the name Sitri.

Sona told herself she would find a way and held little doubt of that.

_Fwwshing._

Although, maybe, it would not be without assistance.

By the Sitri King's left ear, just as the girl began to draw yet another optional plan of forward movement towards the bells on the boy's hips, a soft glow of red appeared at the corner of her vision. She recognized the glow quickly; the hue was a familiar dark shade to almost as if blood and when she curved her head she could see the familiar shape of a Devilish glyph made by the members of the Gremory House.

"_Sona?"_ The floating red symbol spoke.

"Yes?"

"_I think I have a plan."_

* * *

_In the clearing…_

_She can't be real._ He told himself, staring. _It has to be…photo-fixing crazy stuff._

He twisted the magazine around.

…_Yes. Def-definitely crazy photo stuff._

He twisted it. Again. Again. And again.

…_Or magic. Powerful, _**_powerful_**_ magic._

Maybe he needed an expert on this. Someone who knew the ins and outs of imagery tomfoolery. Gasper would know. He would. He'd show him…no, wait, no he wouldn't. Gasper would tell Rias he showed him _this_. Rias would yell at him. And there was no limit of the level of crap which could be made from that little asking of an opinion.

But oh, this was all of small concern.

His eyes caught the shift in the woods. From both his sides.

Sona led her team onto the field. No hiding, no sense of ulterior intentions. He counted the members – they were all there (minus Saji, the poor man). No one hiding in the grass or trees. A full team walking onto the field.

Rias was no different. Kiba, Koneko, Akeno and even Asia walked beside herself. They had a look of no-nonsense, but Asia was obviously nervous. She kept moving her eyes from everyone, looking unsurprisingly careful to what or why she was there to begin with.

The two teams met at his sides. Encircled him.

Closely knit, but still holding ground. Magic coursed and moved between fingers, weapons were drawn, an aggressive Koneko made crass comments. A full-frontal assault, maybe. Power in numbers. No attempt at subterfuge or strategy against a foe that obviously had the upper in skill and energy.

And oh, was there an energy to them now.

When all else fails, sometimes a suicide rush head on might suffice. It used to be one of Naruto's favorite strategies, once upon a time. Rias might have come off as unsurprising in such an approach, but Sona? Naruto could only wonder what manner of persuasion or thought-provoking measures must have been done to move the infallible Sitri heiress into this position.

The blond human smiled at the sight around him, casually tossing the publication over his shoulder and out of the way. There would be no reading now.

"Alright," he said, lowering his position slowly, "I might actually be a little nervous now."

A joke, maybe? The Devils weren't sure.

In response, the two Kings raised their hands instead, mirroring the other.

Then through them forward, pointing to their opponent.

And the fighting started again.

* * *

_Time Remaining: 1 hour, 37 minutes, 12 seconds…_

"Ugh…urr…oooh…"

Saji was sore.

Not in the good sort where hard work was proven through aching muscles and the feeling of sweat. This was more of the kind which dealt with pain. Unhindered, unkind pain. Of a manner, he wished never to have felt in his life.

How long had he been out? Felt only like a minute.

His body felt odd, too. Laying funny. He turned himself over to the side, falling rather ungracefully to the grass. Still sore, it hurt to even move. There was no quick rising from this teenager, that was certain.

He opened his eyes once somewhat comfortable. Took his eyes a second to adjust – the grass, the light, they raided his senses first – but he started to make out patterns moving some ways off. His ears did pick up the sounds of grunts, the tapping of hard materials, the chimes and whistles of familiar magic whistling around. He might have been a novice of Devil still, but he was not unintelligent, and his mind quickly found remembrance in that, yes, there was a fight being fought now.

An objective to be had.

Naruto. He could see him. One hand was clinched around the Gremory Knight's back shirt, lifting him around and forcing him into a makeshift shield against an aggressing Tomoe and Tsubara, while his still free arm caught and forced his Queen to stall in her further attempts at piercing his side. And all the while, some various colored energy fell past at every side, with only just narrowest of misses to be seen at his character.

Narrow avoidances? Or lucky misses?

Saji watched as Naruto tossed Kiba at his friends. He measured himself against Tsubaki and leapt over her, meeting the Rook Koneko midair with fully-intended contact. Then came Ruruko to aid her – when had they decided to fight together, the downed Devil wondered – and for a second, it looked like they might have had him. Two against one, closely quartered, two aggressive fighters battering down a human.

It was so close. So very close.

But Naruto seemed pressed and moved away. Right into a pair of Sitri Bishops' blue fire.

He was an animal trapped. Naruto did not seem so interested in making distance between those around him. Difficult to say if he even could. One moment after another, the combined efforts of the Devils kept at him, not allowing more than a second for him to breath before her was battered by steel, fists or magic itself.

Saji noticed he wasn't smiling anymore.

A good sign? Maybe. And Saji did feel something like hope building up in his chest.

"Gah. Come on, _come on!_" He found his voice again. The soreness remained, but the pain was dulling. He felt control of his legs. He moved to stand, feeling disjointed but not incapable of holding himself. He wobbled for only a moment or two, but tenacity was something teenagers of any species have in spades. The attitude to ignore irritations and follow through with their self-made plans, no matter how flawed they might have been.

Injured and largely unable to fight? Moving to stand and aid his comrades against someone tried and truly a warrior bred in the Underworld?

He might have been capable of doing very little to help, but he felt for his power still.

His hand raised.

Above the noise, above the shouting and grunts and fiery moves, the objective chimed to his ear. The bells, still wrapped around the boy's clothes, were tantalizing. And motion after motion by both teams bore no fruit in their attempts to relieve the tiny orbs from his side.

Saji had a good feeling, though. It was possible.

All it would require of him was aim, focus, and a small bit of luck.

"_Come, Vritra,_" he beckoned, "Absorption Line!"

The familiar dark and violet creature wrapped itself around his hand. It wasted no time in opening its mouth, the tongue shooting towards the center of conflict without issue to the distance or length it needed to stretch forward. It was similar to how it happened before, but with a minor twist. Where before, the tongue of Absorption Line went off to the side of his opponent to see him wrapped accordingly in its tendril – a failed move, ultimately, and one Saji had neither the intention of pursuing again or feeling off put by again – now, instead, the shot went forward. Straight and narrow. Aimed carefully and precisely as could be.

Right to the side of his opponent. Right along his pants.

_Thwap!_

He only missed marginally.

A partial success and partial failure. Absorption Line moved by will and focus of its user. A perfect aim, so long as Saji was of a capable state of mind. He was only partially so, but still managed the power and strength to have himself attentive in his gaze purposely locked onto the silvery bells.

Distance would only be a minor irritation. His opponent had been stopped for a moment to deal with the Gremory Rook, who took to wrapping her tiny hands around his waist and holding him steady for however long her move could manage. He also seemed to need a moment to deal with the sharpened steel and fists going at him from several opponents; where the teen managed to find himself the skill to survive such motions then was beyond the Pawn's mind. He couldn't even imagine some of the most powerful of beings within the Underworld being so impossibly proficient as he was.

He already thought it before. But now; Saji was certain he and his friends had underestimated their blond opponent.

But that was neither here nor there, now. His attack had met his mark. The sticky and adhesive tongue of Vritra took hold of something – he could feel it through the link of his Gear. Something small and round. A singular hold, not a pair, sadly. But he felt the Line tighten around it's mark and already begin to return. The tiny string would give way soon enough.

But this move did not go unnoticed.

Obviously, an attack such as Absorption Line was easy to predict and see. Especially when the user felt such a tug at his side.

Saji wasn't sure when his opponent lost the Rook at his side, or fended off the front-line fighters of both Peerages. All he saw, even through his wavering focus, were the two blue orbs pointed his way. Everyone else seemed to have given some distance to the boy, or been tossed away by the most recent of attack, and watched as Absorption Line did its work. It was the closest any had gotten to the bells; maybe they wished to see if it was even possible to have them removed.

All Devils watched quietly.

But Naruto only smiled, looking at Saji. Not making a move to remove the Gear's hold on him. He waited, for a long second. Not moving an inch to stop him.

Saji felt this weird or maybe testing. Unnerving, to be sure.

He ordered the single bell back to him. Absorption Line answering his command.

Not a moment later, the tongue fell back to his side. And with the minutest of efforts, he forced the adhesive thing to release its hold on the silvery chime, depositing in his hand.

And that's how Saji got the first bell.

* * *

If there was any sort of moment of quiet appreciation, acknowledgment, or amazement in how Saji, of all Devils, managed to snag the first victory on the field, it was cut off by the sound of clapping.

"Nice one!" Naruto yelled. "Ha-ha, very good, Saji!" More clapping. "You really surprised me there! Never saw it coming." He continued to shout. Loud, easily heard, and garnering the attention of everyone around. Forced to be listened to.

Saji noticed, looking awkwardly between the bell and the human. "Uh, thanks," he did sound appreciative, still, if weirded. "I, uh, couldn't have done it without…anyway, uh, does this mean...are we done here?" He stuttered, but managed to ask his question innocently enough. His stomach almost growled. It wanted to, severely. He couldn't stop the look of his eyes going over to the Sakura, where a bag of food waited for them.

Worry overcame hunger when Naruto shook his head. His smile moving just a little wider. "Sorry, but I'm afraid the game's still going," he tapped his side. The single bell rang. "Remember my rules: the game will go on until the clock stops with one team having a bell, or one team has both of my bells. That's how you win."

"Oh," yes, Saji seemed to remember those rules, "uh, then…does that mean I'm winning?"

"Yep," the human answered, "your Peerage is ahead. So long as you keep hold of that bell, and I have my bell, Sona-chan will win when the time runs out." Naruto paused for a moment, curiously turning his eyes to the sky. "Hmm…though, I guess," his tone turned thoughtful, "if _Rias_ were to get ahold of your bell, then _she_ would be the one winning now. I guess if you were nice enough, Saji, you could _give it_ to her. I mean, it's not like your _competing_ against each other, right? How else could she, _Rias,_ get a bell?"

He smiled a little wider, turning his head away from the boy with the single bell, and towards the two Kings.

Both staring at him with dawning, frightful acknowledgement.

"What do you think, Rias-chan? How should you get a bell? From me?" He pointed to himself, looking positively relaxed and confident, then down to the tired, pained, and unsettled Pawn. "Or do you wanna ask Saji _really nicely_ to give up his?"

That brilliant bastard.

"What do you plan to do?"

* * *

**Alright, so, yeah. I am not dead.**

**Obviously.**

**Look, pointless excuses aside, I have been busy with the real world. Trying to get myself organized for creative pieces I hope to make a profit off of soon. My first job in the real world. And I lost this chapter's first draft, as mentioned in the before chapter Author Note. To make sure I can actually keep living and moving forward with my life, plus to get over the first draft loss, I needed to focus on other things.**

**I thought it would only take me awhile. Turns out, it took me several months.**

**To all my fans, seriously, I CANNOT express enough how sorry I am for taking as long as I have.**

**Now, thankfully, I have a bit more free time to work with. AND I have been working on finalizing this story's details for the future. Oh, AND I have some possibly good news! I have been working on another story! And I have already worked up to 14 CHAPTERS I plan to start getting posted tomorrow (and possibly only on Sundays. They will be shorter chapters then this story, but I like the work I've put into it).**

**If anyone appreciates humor, worldbuilding, quick chapters and character-building, then I think you will enjoy it. And similar to The Beast of Gremory, it's my write-up on a story that, while the world surrounding it is full of potential, the characters and implementation are lacking. This is my version to remedy the flaws shown.**

**Anyway, I'd like to ask anyone who likes my work to _PLEASE_ go check it out. Even if you don't like it, it would still mean a lot to me. It's something I've actually been working with my brother on for the last couple months. I know he's excited to hear how people like it.**

**It's posted now, so PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT! Two Brothers; hope to hear from some of you then!**

**P.S. Just got back from seeing Spider-Man: Homecoming. 9.5/10, would recommend HIGHLY.**


	11. God's got one Hell of an Alarm Clock END

**Alright, as yet another apology for taking forever with the last chapter, here's yet another chapter.**

**The last of the Survival Training chapters. I know everybody just ****loved**** these. Luckily, it is the last one.**

**So, forgive me?**

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR: GOD'S GOT ONE HELL OF AN ALARM CLOCK END

_The Underworld_

_Nine years ago…_

"Surprise, love."

"My lord. Your presence was unexpected. Have your duties already been attended to?"

"I find myself with a lax bit of work today, my lady."

"Hmm, a rare occurrence."

"Indeed. But a welcome one."

A pair of arms wrapped around the back of a beautiful woman, pulling her close to their owner. Possessively. Protectively. The woman did not object.

"How is he?"

"Tired. Surtr has proven resilient in his teaching methods, as usual. The man knows nothing in the way of restraint though, admittedly, he proves himself commendably adept with his practices. As does our son, in holding his own."

"Hmm. And, how are you?"

"I am well, my lord. We were just about to break for lunch."

"I am to assume he skipped breakfast again?"

"Need you even ask?"

"No, I suppose I don't. He takes after me in that regard."

"Thick-headedness was not the sort of defining trait I hoped you would be willing to pass on to our child."

The silver-haired maiden sent a somewhat tempered glance to the man behind her, though there might have just been a playfulness to it, too. The man, though looking somewhat bashful from her glance, had the good graces to feel somewhat pleased in his son's tenancies to put work before self. Not necessarily a sound trait to have, but one he couldn't disregard or critique without feeling somewhat hypocritical.

His wife would deal with perceived negatives of his character in her own way, if she wished to.

Sirzechs' walk took him to the far side of the gardens. He was not often a man to appreciate pleasant views or sights (though, his mother did try to instill such virtues into him at a ripe, young age) but the sounds which echoed even from the doors was enough to warrant his straying from the intended path to a more direct and projected route.

There is something about being a High-Class Devil and watching your son proficient himself in the art of combat. It's a satisfying moment. Devil culture wasn't singularly focused to how one fights or combats another, but he would not lie and say there wasn't some marginal significance to the Underworld. It is a method to bolster status and further position, barbaric as some might call it. It was simply their way.

"He will make a true Devil when the day comes." Sirzechs said, mostly to himself, watching as Naruto took a heavy blow to the left. He guarded from most of it but the sheer volume and power behind Surtr's mass worked against him.

"He's made his position on your suggestion quite clear, my lord," Grayfia said. "He has no interest."

Sometime prior, the two Devils sat their child down and offered him their willingness to make him a full member of the Underworld, if he so desired. To make him a Devil, like themselves. To teach him to fly, to become connected with the real Devil society, to fully initiate himself with the Underworld's politics and upstanding. For Sirzechs to take the boy under his wing entirely and see just what the world beyond really held in store for him as a child of Lucifer. They painted the image and hopefulness of their desire in a vivid, colorful and engaging light. One, they presumed, any eight-year old would have jumped for the chance to be a part of.

But Naruto's answer was a simple one.

"I'm good."

He then finished his lunch and went back to training with Surtr.

"Bah, do not be so certain," Sirzechs waved off his wife's comment, smiling assuredly. "He's a child. Give him time. A few years from now, and I promise we'll have a pair of wings in him yet."

Grayfia didn't comment further or show any sort of sign whether she was for or against the idea. She was always a difficult woman to read. Caring and kind in her own ways, but stern and focused in others. Not a woman to be so negligently dealt with by any stretch. She might have wanted her son to be a Devil – she held no reserves when Sirzechs first suggested having the talk with Naruto on the matter, and even suggested a time where he'd be most open to conversing on the matter – but it was just as likely she preferred the boy she raised to remain as he was for as long as she was able.

Grayfia Lucifuge. What an intricate woman.

"When will he take his break?" He whispered into her ear.

"I was planning to cut them off shortly. Why?"

The Great Satan smiled, removing himself from his wife and stepping to the side. With a quick pull, his long cloak fell from his shoulders. He didn't bother to manage it as he continued to walk ahead, even ignoring his wife's silent commentary on keeping his dress more keenly kept.

"Surtr," he called to his old friend, who paused in his version of training to quickly turn and kneel before his longtime friend and King.

"My lord."

"Take a rest, my old friend," he commanded his friend in a kind tone, as the giant looked up to see his master starting to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, "I want to spend a little time with my son, if that is alright with you."

Surtr's lips grew into a wide grin. "You will not be disappointed, my lord." He rose to full height. Offering a quick bow, he moved over to where the household's lady waited, with the crimson coat of her lord folded in hand.

Naruto watched as his teacher stepped aside. His father moved to meet him. The beholder of the title Lucifer took up a stance, arms raised and legs spread. Casual. He didn't imagine there would be any need for overt efforts in dealing with an eight-year-old.

"Whenever you are ready, Naruto. _Come_."

* * *

_Time Remaining: 42 minutes, 7 seconds_

Saji hid behind a tree. Sweating, gasping, fatigued more than any other time he could recall. He tried to keep himself silent, but the last ten minutes proved particularly brutal when compared to the last forty-five. Red flares, swords, aggressive little girls. A teen massacre of Devils intent on ripping the others to pieces.

It would have been so epic if the target for most of this aggression wasn't him.

To describe how this insanity began would be to illustrate one of the greatest Devil betrayals in Japan history. How they were all manipulated. Played with. Knowingly, _obviously_ worked against the other. How each of them, his Peerage and his opponents, fell for the blond's words without indecision. How it began so quickly that he imagined there would be a few, restless nights recalling the savagery by which the red King's followers fell into the act of trying to stomp him down and retrieve the bell from his hand without so much as a moment's consideration.

"Run, Saji!" His King commanded. _Screamed_ to him, more like.

He didn't hesitate and made for the trees.

That was a while ago. Now, with time to breathe, he could hear it. From his little spot, hidden in the trees. The sounds of steel batting steel. The wisps of air and magic. The struggles and calls. They weren't so close, but close enough to make him worry. To make him concerned.

So, with just a little bit of rest, Saji furthered himself again from the fighting.

* * *

_Time Remaining: 37 minutes, 14 seconds_

Koneko swung the trunk of a tree at the Knight and Pawn of Sitri, missing only narrowly. Tomoe went high whilst Ruruko simple fell to the ground, panicked and nearing tears as their opponent continued to show off her resilience and sheer power she had over them. The white-haired first-year wasn't a merciful child, no question of that.

"Tomoe-chan," the pawn whined, "are we done yet?"

Her answer was for her Knight to bring her sword down onto the tree as it came in for another swing. A testament to the weapon, the wood was shaved thoroughly.

"Stand up, Ruruko!" Tomoe beckoned. "She's coming!"

Neither was sure what was more frightening. The tree being waved around like a bat, threatening to smash them with great force. Or the small teen's tiny hands which had the might to smash boulders with ease.

Needless to say, this was more of a fight of attrition and survival then conquer. And it was all the two Sitri girls could do to assist they're King and wayward Pawn.

* * *

_Time Remaining: 29 minutes, 11 seconds_

"I must say, Shinra-san!" Kiba yelled, matching an overhead swing of the naginata with a swing of his own. "Your skill is without question!" He made to lean back, avoiding a swing to his chest, then stepped around for a stab of his own, which only just missed his opponent's arm. "You've proven yourself an exceptional warrior! Your King must be," he brought his sword up then down, "_very proud!_"

"You have my thanks, Kiba-san!" Tsubaki twisted and threw her weapon forward, watching as only a few hairs of her opponent's head were unable to avoid her draw. "And I admit, as well! Gremory-san's faith in your," she leapt over the male swordsman, attempting to disorient him by her new position, "_skills!_ Have proven to be most well-placed!"

"You flatter me! I have not met someone so gifted," he went for her slender legs, to which she avoided his aim with ease, "since my own master! He would complement you, most highly!"

"Now who is the one," she went to stun him with the pole of her weapon, only for it to be blocked by his quickly flexed arm, "who is flattering?!"

"It isn't flattery when it's _true!_" He tried to push her back and find an opening to move forward. She managed to prevent his progress easily. "Your skill is remarkable!"

"And I do not pass out compliments lightly! I cannot recall the last time I've had to take such levels of care with someone – let alone of my age!"

Between Tsubaki Shinra and Yuuto Kiba, there was pause. Both sizing up the other. A twitch in posture, a momentary separation of focus, even the careful arrangement of one's tool would speak of the other's intents or motives in the next bout which would surely come.

But through both of it, the two of them smiled. For how often did a warrior of their caliber meet another such as themselves? Between the weariness, the hunger, the heat and the arduous duty which beckoned both forth on the requests of their Kings, neither weapon practitioner would argue that this was the most enjoyable moment of their day.

* * *

_Time Remaining: 21 minutes, 44 seconds_

A pair of Bishops might have the advantage by numbers and magical potency. But against someone so proficient and renowned for her gifts in all manner of arcane, the Queen of Gremory proved to be more than a match for the Sitri girls. Blow for blow, step for step, she pressed them forward relentlessly. Joyfully, even, at times, which unnerved her opponents enough to leave an opening or two, once or twice. Both sides were exhausted and nearing the point of collapse. Great beads of sweat and gasps for air could be heard over the bits of magic tossed between one or the other.

And even with the Bishops weakening, their own lack of experience being the hindrance which allowed Akeno to make ground towards joining her King in her own, personal bout, it proved to be the unexpected arrival of the lone Sitri Rook which held and pushed her back.

Physical matters of combat were not her forte. A Queen boasts a significant level of endurance and strength marginal to those of the Rook piece. And in most cases, were she not beaten down by fatigue and all manner of exhaustion, mental and physical both, perhaps then this combative situation would have been more even.

Sadly, it wasn't to be. And Akeno would not progress.

* * *

_Time Remaining: 12 minutes, 12 seconds_

"Saji?"

How else might a conflict of Devil Kings appear?

Shouted words of sophistication? Thrown fists and tempered magics far empowered beyond what the common arcanic figure might posses? A scorched field of battle as far as the eye could see? A terrifying show of lights and sounds, heard for all the forest and beyond to recognize and stay safely from? Perhaps mixed in with blood and bits of hair, black and red, long and short strands. A terrifying area no sane or unforced individual would rightly pursue without just or noble cause.

This is how it sometimes is.

But this fight had seen the better part of an hour over.

Even Devils know their limits. Even Devils know when even the need to walk can be exuberant and taxing.

"_Saji?!"_

Sona Sitri was laying by a tree. She had some scratches, some bruises, and would be sore and weak until maybe a week or two after. But she was alive and would not know any permanent injury. Not all Kings who fight can say the same when they scuffle. And though she was of a brilliant mind which any Devil could attest to, she was not of the most physically adept prestige. That honor belonged to her opponent.

Rias Gremory did lean over a scorched tree. Her hands were shaking, her faced covered with thick moisture, and her panting was only somewhat calmer than her downed friend's. She was still bruised, harmed and would in the next hour undoubtedly enjoy a well fought rest. But until then, her eyes would remain locked forward and her face aggressive. She would find him, so she declared, and moved away further into the woods.

Sona had not the will nor the energy left to stop her. She could only watch as the crimson-haired King moved forward. Hoping, even there and unable to move, that she had given her Pawn time. Time to seek out a safe, quiet, and uninterrupted spot. Away from everyone and everything.

"_WHERE ARE YOU,_ _**SAJI**__?!"_

* * *

_Time Remaining: 8 minutes_

Asia twiddled her fingers as she looked over the forest's edge. Not nearly so tired or beaten as her friends, she looked very much the same as when she entered the forest first. Mayhaps a little tired and hungry, but was otherwise physically and mentally well. She could hear the sounds of conflict not so long ago, but most of the combat seemed to have settled and died. Now there was only a tense and quiet air. And sitting there, on a lone rock in the area her friend chose as their makeshift battlefield, she worried and fretted silently.

Speaking of, her friend placed a hand to her shoulder, grabbing her attention.

"Relax, Asia," her friend confidently told her. "Everyone's fine. Tired and probably sore, but good. In a couple of minutes, you'll see."

He sounded so sure, too. How, Asia couldn't say, but she forced a smile to the boy as he made to comfort her. "Hmhmm. Yes, you're right. I'm sure everything is well. Thank you." Her fingers still toyed with themselves.

Naruto noticed, of course, but refrained from comment. Instead, he went back to looking into the woods, watching everything with a quiet calm.

At the start of the great betrayal of Kings, Asia was left behind. Her King commanded it before taking off for her target. Asia did suddenly feel very alone and very timid, standing in the woods until Naruto came up beside her. She did, admittedly, fret that he might put her through a similar bit of trouble he oh-so mercilessly placed on everyone else. She was not of a combative nature, and even as a Devil, the most she could hope to accomplish was a scratch or maybe a light bruise. Not that her personality would even consider such a motion to make, but it was possible, however vaguely it could happen.

But all he did was offer her a place to wait for the others, calming her and assuring that everything would be well and fine shortly.

Asia, so trusting and gentle, didn't make an attempt for the bells or thought anything about the competition at all. She only waited and silently prayed for her friends' safety (shocking her twice or thrice).

Naruto almost felt bad for her. She was very important to how this all would end.

He glanced back to the clock by the tree.

* * *

_Time Remaining: 1 minutes, 52 seconds_

"_Give me the bell!_"

"WHHAAAAAAA-HA-HAAAA!"

Saji should have run further. Much further. Never should have doubted the willingness or temptation this small bell had for a woman such as Rias. Should not have doubted her willingness to use what vague sense and awareness she had left to notice his obvious traversal through the woods. How his steps pressed into the mud. How his fingers brushed branches and broke them like the simple, brittle things they were. How his panic made such an obvious and straight path for her to follow that she did smirk when she caught sight of it. How the freshness and haggard way it all looked suggested he was only a short way ahead.

Oh yes. He should have put more distance between them.

A red flare shot just past his ear. The left of his feet shuddered. These efforts were spaced out and not nearly so violent as the first actions taken against him, but they worked. A few even hit. Mean blows. Like hard, punishing fists.

Or maybe they were pathetically light. Hard to say. Saji was weak now. Very weak. Scared and distressed. It might have even seemed comedic to watch from afar, how he wrestled to distance himself from his senior. He wasn't quite brought to tears, but the whimpers and frightened pleas for anyone to help him were fun in a black, sadistic humor.

"WOULD SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME?!"

"Get back here,_ Sajiiiii!_"

And how the heiress cried and cursed the Pawn was funny in its own right, too.

But, like many great chases, an unfortunate circumstance would prevent the narrow escape of the boy mere moments from salvation. It might have been a twig, a brush with a tree root, or perhaps his waning consciousness caused a misstep. Either way, Saji fell. He stumbled and tried to pull himself upright but found not the will to continue – he might have even found the spot rather comfortable and reason enough to rest even briefly, if not for the reddish glow clouding the area in its ominous shine.

All he could do was turn. Turn to the girl who held a red ball of energy in her hand. The final bit of her power remaining, and she would not miss her mark.

"Bell," she growled. "Now."

"I c-c-c-can't!" Saji yelled. "S-S-Sona-san would n-never forgive _meee_!"

In such a moment previous, perhaps Rias would think or be hesitant for a moment in her course of action. Maybe even allowed for her more diplomatic-side to work out a more fruitful solution for both parties, if readily available. But morality was never in much abundance for a determined Devil and even less so when she felt as she did.

She raised her hand.

"I gave you an _out_."

Saji's eyes widened, throwing his hands up to protect his face, futile though the defense might have been.

He had nothing to worry about, though.

"Alright," a calm, controlled voice spoke up, "I think that's enough, Rias."

Saji did not dare lower his guard immediately, lest he receive a face full of chaotic-red energy. But after a moment, without the roar or shout of magic flared, he dared to peak between his arms.

Naruto was there. And another Naruto. And a Naruto after that. And couple more along with him. One held the redhead's shoulders, another her arm, the third was down low and gripping her ankle, while the last made light effort in holding her free arm down. The fifth one stood between herself and the downed Devil boy, smiling to her with a calm, amused grin.

Rias did struggle slightly, even if she was most aware of the futility of the gesture. Even on the best of days, Naruto was a monster. And four of them holding her down wouldn't improve her odds in any ways. It was mostly pride which spurred her still, and maybe the intent to wipe the smirk from the copy of her nephew's face.

It was usually an enjoyable thing to look at for the Gremory girl. Presently, though, it's level of unbearableness far exceeded any emotions she might otherwise have had.

"Naruto," she growled, "what are you doing?"

One of the clones answered. "Winning."

"Making sure we win," corrected another with a laugh.

"Saji, you still have the bell?" Another of the clones asked, looking to the teen on the ground. The Devil nodded carefully, slowly, lifting his hand and slowly uncurling his fingers to reveal his prize. "Good. Tell the boss."

One of the clones nodded before disappearing into smoke.

* * *

_Time Remaining: 12 seconds_

Naruto's eyes perked.

"Hey, Asia," he smiled down to the girl, "can you hold this for me?"

His hand went to his belt, gave it a quick flick, then moved it to the curious girl. Without ceremony, he dropped a tiny, silver thing into her hand.

The poor girl didn't even seem to register what she had for the brief moment he passed it to her before something loud and boisterous started to-

"_BBBRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG!"_

* * *

"…_Rrrrriiiiinnnnggg!"_

Koneko turned her head quickly to the noise. An echo of a sound, far off to her side. Unknown and unfamiliar, but she had a clue what it was.

It was over. Finally, over.

She was laid beneath a tree, shaded from the sun as she waited patiently for this whole event to be over for some time. She was not so much injured or bruised, save for some tears or cuts into her uniform, but didn't appear to be bleeding or physically unwell. She looked positively fine, at least compared to her opponents, who seemed to have taken a nap at some point by another tree and were only jostled awake by the sudden alarm.

She allowed them their rest. She won, that was all she wanted.

And maybe some sleep. A burger, maybe. With ice-cream. And a shake, of some kind. Preferably with something chocolate to go with it.

"Hey there," a voice whispered to her side. She knew that tone. "How you doing?"

"Tired." Obvious, blunt answer. Not out of her character. "Very tired."

Her frankness made the copy laugh. "Yeah, I imagine so," he took a look to the tree in the small area, lifted up by its roots and used like a bat not too long ago. "You did excellent, Koneko. I'm proud of you."

"Hmm. Thanks," she mumbled, closing her eyes and leaning a little more into the tree. "Sleep now. Talk later."

"Sure. But maybe this isn't the best place," they were in the middle of the woods, sitting on mud and twigs. "Want me to carry you back?"

Koneko was quiet for a second. Pride said no. Past experiences said this wouldn't be the first time he'd done this. Exhaustion screamed yes. The image of being carried by him, making her look incapable and frail as he held her…it should have bothered her more. Like a baby needing to be fathered, weak and dependent. A feeling she hated with a strong passion.

"Yes," she answered, keeping her eyes shut, "just be gentle or I'll smack you."

Naruto only laughed as his arms wrapped under her, lifting her to him. She didn't mean to curl into his hold, but he was certainly more comfortable then the bark and rocks.

"I can do that. Come on, let's go see how the others are doing."

* * *

"You look like crap." The human said, looking down between the pair lying beside a rather large rock together.

Outfits cut and shredded like tinfoil. Bloodied cuts and marks from their heads to their lower legs. Some minor, one or two eye-catching, but nothing ultimately unnerving or needing immediate attention from. Their weapons were still held between their fingers, but not so strictly that maybe even the lightest brushes of a kick or tap could send them away. And the area around the boy and girl seemed to be of a similar situation to themselves; trees marked with deep, rigid cuts. Shredded branches and leaves by the plentiful. Even the rock they laid beside seemed to have not come unscathed.

Besides this, Kiba looked relatively pleased with himself.

"I feel pretty good," he replied.

"I am also faring well," Tsubaki spoke up at his side. Like him, her smile was pleasant and pleased. Her glasses were a little dented and scratched, but still wearable. Pieces of her undergarments were seeable from the session before, but if it bothered her in any manner, Shinra did not show. "How are our Kings?"

"Rias is fine," the instigator of the challenge answered easily enough, "I have someone looking into Sona-chan now. She'll be joining us soon." He knelt between them, moving his hands to their shoulders. "But for starters, how about we get you guys something to eat, hmm? Sound good?"

"Hmm, sounds wonderful."

"Thought you'd say that."

With his hands placed to their shoulders, the three of them disappeared in a quick spiral of wind and rising leaves.

* * *

"Naruto?"

"Yeah?"

"Is this a side of you we'll see more of?"

"What do you mean?"

"This. Where you manipulate. Where you bring unimaginable pain to others. Force them to fight while starved, tired, and begging for mercy. Where you pull the wings of young maidens and throw them into trees. Humiliate and force others to look onto you with absolute fear. Play them like they are your pets and make them lick your boots."

"Did I really come off like that?"

"Oh, yes…you were positively…_sadistic._ Oh, I won't forget how you treated us for a very, _very_ long time. I…I get _goosebumps_ just thinking about it."

"Akeno…I'm sorry. I won't do anything like this again."

"…Oh, Naruto-kun. You truly know how to break a young girl's heart…"

"Huh?"

* * *

"How's my favorite Sitri girl in the world doing?"

Sona opened her eyes, looking up to the boy smiling down to her.

"How do you think?"

"Not good?"

"What was your first clue?" She looked herself over, her eyes drifting over herself with barely a shift to her head. "I look like a mess."

"Yeah, you kind of do." He knelt beside her, offering a smile. Sona did not return the gesture - she was far too tired to react to much.

"Your honesty is unappreciated. But if you have anything further to say, tell me then: did Saji maintain his hold over the bell?" She asked, her eyes narrowing into a piercing stare. She asked for no funny business or deceit.

And Naruto would give her none. "He did," he answered. "Saji managed to hold onto his bell until the very end. Wouldn't even relent it to Rias when she caught him."

Sona's mind imagined a scenario where Saji, her Pawn, would have any sort of luck or ability in repelling her friend and fellow King. The image was an unlikely one, downright unbelievable in some ways. In any situation of the norm, Rias would have laid him out without need for more than a wave of her hand. This wasn't an exaggeration; Rias was arguably the most powerful Devil in their age. Gifted, without question, in the art of destruction.

"I am admittedly with doubts to the truthfulness of your claim," the Sitri admitted. "However, perhaps seeing is believing." It must have taken some effort to lift herself. Her legs twitched keep herself upright, she placed her hand to the tree and used it for balance, whilst her face tightened with increased efforts to keep forthright.

Naruto held his hand out. "Need help?" He asked.

"No," she replied, "I can stand. I am not so weak that I require your assistance."

"Maybe," Naruto was willing to relent, "but it never hurts to have someone support you along the way, here and there." He could attest to too many people wanting to press forward on their own. It usually never ended well.

Sona fixed him a look from behind her glasses. "I'll keep that in mind." She allowed, then started to walk. Slow, mechanical, and with bits of evident effort. But she walked on her own, heading towards the direction of the sakura tree.

The copy of Naruto watched her move. Stubborn girl, without question. Prideful, like her friend.

Still, there's was an admirability to her coolness. Her stubbornness something of a fond perk to the girl who so often kept her shields up and expression proper. He relented to her unwillingness for assistance and decided to just keep pace instead. Always beside her, within reach, if she needed a hand.

* * *

Rias wasn't sure how she should react when the sound rang over the forest. Surrounded and held down by her nephew's copies, the most the heiress could manage was a twist of her head towards the focal point of the noise. Instinctively, she knew what it meant. What it stood for. And how, sitting there, with bell in hand, the most likely outcome of this tiresome, lengthy, and recently treacherous escapade had become.

She lost.

The energy fell from her. Frowning, she gave the mimics a look which prompted their quick dispersal, save one. She didn't look particularly devastated – not as if this was the end of the world – but there was a disappointment which was obvious. Her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze pointed down, and her breathing was slow and measured. A silence fell between the crimson-haired princess and the nephew-clone; neither saying a word as Rias kept herself intentionally away while Naruto looked on her with a passive understanding.

"Holy shit," the silence broke, "did we actually win?"

Naruto turned to Saji. The dawning conclusion of what he just made it through was enough bring a creeping smile to his lips.

The copy decided to answer him honestly. "You managed to keep a bell until the end."

A laugh began to break out from the Pawn. A joyful sound moving past his lips; his body shaking and wriggling on the ground. "I did it," he yelled. "I did it! Oh, I did it! Sitri-san, I did it!"

Rias mood did not reflect a similar joyfulness, but she did relent a look towards the boy. "Congrats," her tone suggested a lack of real approval or acceptance to his victory. Not that Saji looked like he cared.

"You want a lift back?" The human asked, looking at Rias with an attempt at something apologetic, but the girl seemed rather miffed.

"Oh, _now_ you decide to help me?" He had that one coming. It did kinda look like he was helping the other Peerage.

"I didn't help you," he admitted, "and I didn't help him, either."

Rias didn't believe him, if the obvious disagreement etched into her figure were any indications. "Tell _him_ that."

"_WOOOOOO-HOOOOO! FUCK __**ALL YA'LL**__!_"

"…Yeah…" Naruto tried, looking at the rather excited Pawn, "that won't last long."

A curious choice of words even the weary Rias could see. "And what do you mean by _that?_"

"It might be best just to show you," he held out his hand again to her.

Another time, another place, this gesture might have made Rias happy. Now, amidst this strained defeat, this annoyance at the cheering boy, her bruised pride and irritation at her nephew, she almost felt ready to simply walk the way back and leave him there. To show her lack of appreciation to his meddling and secretive, second-meaning words.

But a more curious, open, and less stubborn part of her won out.

"I _will_ be getting you back for this, Naruto-kun," she told him, annoyed look quite plainly seen as she held her hand out to him. He took it carefully. "For _all_ of this."

"Yeah, I bet. Saji, we're heading back! Get over here!"

* * *

What could Asia say?

One moment, bell. Next moment, alarm. And after that, several identical copies of her roommate appeared amidst a quick gust of wind and leaves, depositing several of her friends onto the ground. Several looked awful, battered and bruised and some even bleeding. She was certainly the better off of the lot and thus quickly moved to whom she deemed the worst and in need of her help. Though her ability stemmed largely from her present condition, which she would even admit to feeling somewhat fatigued, she proved adamant and willful in spreading her good power onto others.

"You have my thanks, Argento-san."

"Ahhh, you are the best, Asia."

"Asia. MVP."

Apparently, soothing and assisting the aches and pains of a three-hour assault was to be valued most highly. Both Peerages looked almost eagerly for her to work her magic. And, though she would deny it, being appreciated as she was might have given Asia just a little more kick to her step and a bit wider smile to boot.

Once the Kings appeared, with Rias and Saji appearing amongst additional leaves and Sona walking stiffly with an assisting copy of her roommate beside her, Naruto stood atop to look over his peers.

"Alright," he shouted, "who had fun today?"

"YOU SADISTIC FUCK!"

"I WILL MAKE YOUR INSIDES YOUR OUTSIDES THEN YOUR INSIDES AGAIN!"

"YOU POKED ME IN THE ASS! WHY? JUST…_WHY?!_"

"ALL OF MY **HATE!**"

"Glad to hear it. Now, I don't want to waste any more time on this, so let's just get right down to business," that got a pause from the colorful shouts. "As we all saw, Sona's Pawn managed to take a bell from me. Saji, if you would."

The teen proved himself quite the showman. He stood himself up from the ground, lifting his silver prize for both Peerages to see. "Right here! Right! Here! Look what I got!" Might have been the exhaustion but his fellow members through camaraderie out the metaphorical window and cheered for their member's success. A pair of Bishops congratulated his success loudly, a fellow Pawn threw herself onto his shoulder in an excited hug, a Knight clapped loudly while the Rook beside her whistled loudly in appreciation, and the Queen offered a polite clap. Even Sona passed him a rather pleased grin and nod for his success, which only spurred his excitement.

Rias and her Peerage followed with a quiet acknowledgement of their own. Not so vivacious, but enough to suggest a remaining camaraderie between the other.

"Okay, okay, good work, Saji, good work. You earned your team some lunch."

From the side, yet another copy appeared. The black bag, full of delicious delicacies unseen, strapped around his arm. "Who's hungry?" He asked in good nature, quickly making his way around to pass meal to meal between the Sitri girls and boys. The food was still wondrously warm, kept in their tightly sealedblack boxes. And, oh, the flavor…

"_Oh my."_

"This…this is…_oohhh_…"

"I take back almost everything I've thought or said about you, Naruto. Hmm, so good!"

Some dug in without need for politeness or feeling of order. Swallowing and chewing of meats and vegetables, mixed with a sauce some were unfamiliar with but found to be delightfully sweet and mouthwatering, could be heard. Sona and her Queen seemed to be the only ones willing to follow decorum, politely nibbling and eating in respectable amounts. Though, they're pacing did seem rather below the standard for polite society.

The vision was enviable to the other Peerage.

"Congratulations again, Saji," Naruto spoke up, barely being listened to as the food garnered almost everyone's attention. He decided to speak a little louder. "Now, Asia-chan, could you please raise your bell for everyone."

The stuffing of mouths and quiet staring from both Peerages ceased.

Everyone turned to the girl in mention.

"Asia?" Rias spoke up.

The poor girl. She looked so taken by the attention given to her. Red-faced and uncomfortable, she stood up and raised her fingers a little. The slight ringing from the object in her hand came to everyone's attention before any notice of the glistening metal was found.

"Thank you, Asia-chan," Naruto only made it worse. He reached over to the girl and pat her shoulder with a long arm. "You got yourself a bell for your team. Nice work."

Asia didn't seem to wholeheartedly appreciate his evident good cheer. "Naruto-kun, what's going on?" It was the question on everyone's mind.

"Well, you managed to take a bell from me. Which means you and your team get food," his clone began to move around again. One box of food to every stunned, wondering, and confused member of the Gremory Peerage.

"B-but I didn't take a bell!" She defended herself. "You gave me one!" The bell fell from her fingers and down to the ground as if it suddenly bit her.

There was a raising of eyes at her declaration.

"Really?" Naruto asked. And oh, that smile. "I don't remember."

"You did! Just before the clock went off, y-you told me to hold onto it!"

"Hmm. Maybe I did. Still, you got a bell. So, food," The clone passed a bit of food to Asia. "Hungry?"

"Oh, yes, thank you," she always had time to be polite. "But Naruto-kun, I'm afraid I still don't understand-"

"_What is the meaning of this, Naruto?"_

Attention fell from the two blonds to the Peerage Kings. Both stood beside the other, their lunches sitting away as they stood beside the other. Rias glared openly with arms crossed, foot tapping into the grass, while Sona did hold a somewhat similar appearance though while her friend had a somewhat more obvious negativity towards whatever was happening, the Sitri was subtler. A long, frigid stare. No less effective than her red-haired friend.

"Yes, please do explain what is happening."

"I'm not sure what you mean," the amused smugness of him. "I'm just pointing out that both of your Peerages managed to get a bell. And that's quite the accomplish-"

"Enough," Rias interrupted. "Why did you give a bell to Asia?"

"Yes, this doesn't seem impartial treatment," Sona added in. "We had to fight for our bell, but you seemed rather casual in passing on a bell to your 'friend.' I must admit, your blatant favoritism in this is not exactly putting you in the most charming light."

Wow. When was the last time Sona talked so much in one go? And with such frosty anger? "Favoritism?" Naruto asked, feigned surprise at the accusation. "I don't know what you mean. If anything, I only helped myself by giving her the bell." He paused. "Or, when she took it, I mean."

"Oh? And how do you figure?"

Here came the best part. "Oh, come on. Didn't you ask me what happened if both of you got a bell?" He sent a pointed look to his aunt, who for a moment looked confused and uncertain. But then, her eyes did widen a bit.

"No…"

"Yep. My rules were that if any of your peerage managed to get a hold of a bell, I'd offer you lunch. And wouldn't you know it! Both of you guys got bells! So, lunch all around! And no one gets tied to a tree. But there was that little way of me winning this all. Either I keep both bells _or_ you both manage to snag one of my silver pieces. Which, you both did."

His smile widened a little. It still looked innocent and kind, but the Devils all stared at him in horror.

"So, since you both got a bell, neither of you wins. Or loses. But in that case, _I win_. Those were the rules I gave you, remember? Please, no need for applause."

"Bullshit!" Oh, Saji had some words to say to that. The boy stood up, staring angrily to his once thought defeated foe. "Then what was the point of all of this?"

"To learn, mostly," he eased his fingers into his pockets. "Overall, I'd say you guys did pretty well. But there are a few tips I don't think would hurt to remind you guys of. For starters, when you know you're going to be fighting someone with the intention of killing them, it's good to start with a meal in your stomach," he looked over everyone, each Devil listening to him carefully. "Throwing up is probably going to be the least of your worries if someone is trying to kill you. Keep up your energy; it helps." Obvious things to consider are sometimes the ones least thought of.

No one argued that. Some even took quick bites of their meal, just to illustrate the point of their understanding.

"Next, let's go with teamwork. I...don't really have much to say on that. You both worked well together against me. I'm actually kind of proud of you guys for that. _But,_ when Saji took one of my bells, you all turned against the other. Inner-fighting can get you killed. You saw what I could do - if I wanted it, I could have taken each of you while you were busy trying to fight the other. Wouldn't have been that hard, really. And, sure, this is a competition. Grand prize, two teams, win-lose situation, it happens. But when someone like me is obviously making sure you fight with each other, do yourself a favor and stick with your fellow Devil. Even if you have to sacrifice your own wants and needs for someone else. It might stink, but sometimes sacrifice needs to happen. Just keep that in mind."

That earned some more sheepish or guilty looks from others. Especially the two Kings, who orchestrated this event and the turning against each other. Temptation for the grand reward can make common sense of even the brightest and coolest of heads fail in a moment of importance.

"After that, all I have to say is that each of you works better as a team. Keeping together helps in the long run. Work off the other's strengths and defend their weaknesses. You did pretty well with that, too. But someone left their Bishop behind," Naruto walked behind his roommate, putting his hands to her shoulders, "and after that, all I needed was for her to take my bell and the rest was history. I could have won at any time. Didn't even need to do much more than raise my hand a little.

"And that's the most important thing to remember. _I_ didn't need to keep the bells. All I needed was for neither of you to win. And by doing so, I won. Simple as that."

"We were in checkmate before we even began…" Sona seemed to have some kind of dawning conclusion nestled in the back of her mind. A twisted idea which made her look onto her friend most cautiously.

Naruto only smiled and shrugged to her comment.

"But what was the point of coming here so late?"

It was Sona's younger Pawn who asked. The human stared at her for a long moment. "Oh, that was just to make this easier for me."

"Seriously?!"

"Just take it as another lesson in being rested. Or the importance of being on time. Or that I lie – whichever you want." There might have been a few faces in the audience who looked ready to deck him a couple solid ones. "But anyway, sure, I tricked you. But you agreed to my rules, so you really have no one to blame but yourselves." The number of angry audience members grew.

"You can't be serious..." Rias growled, hand rubbing the edges of her eyes with no small amount of annoyance. "Are you honestly telling me that you wasted our time with this charade? Do you really expect us to just let you decide that no one gets to use the Familiar Master now?"

"And here I thought you gave me your word," Naruto gave off an overly dramatic sign then shrugged his arms. "Well, no big. I kind of expected this would happen. Which is why I'm giving my seal of approval for both of you," he raised his hand, index and middle finger pointing to the two newest Peerage members, "to come with me to see the master tomorrow."

A choice bit of words which caught Sona's ear. "Naruto, Zatouji will only accept _one_ Peerage to work with every month. You know this."

"Hmm. Normally, yeah. He's a bit hard to deal with," the nonchalance of Naruto was palpable. Almost knowing, like he was aware of something particular neither Peerage was aware. "But I might just have something that could fix him to help another someone. He owes me a favor; I think I might just collect on it now."

Depending on the species, people, organization or individual, a favor can mean the world or nothing. Essentially, it could be like grass without value, or as much as a blank check with your name on it. And Devils had a particular appreciation and intense code towards a favor owed. So, say whatever about the Familiar Master; a man of compulsion, pride in his work, and when he said he could do something, he usually could. But like any Devil, when his word was given, it _meant_ something.

One of a number of things Naruto had appreciation towards Devils for.

"I wasn't aware of this." Kiba was actually the one to speak up.

"Nor I," Rias added, still quite aggressed. The girl's pride was that of a Devil; being so easily tricked wouldn't be mended for a short while still. "I don't believe you never mentioned this before. When did this small favor-owing meeting happen with one of the most renowned and respected masters of beasts, Naruto?"

Hmm, when did it all happen?

Well, as the story went, a freak hydra started to destroy a particular forest spot for endangered jackalopes. Naruto was practically begged to help with it. Turned out, one of the heads had a particularly infected parasite in the brain which made the whole body go mad. Took awhile to figure it out, but after giving the infected head a rather clean shave by its lower neck, the beastie was positively tame after. The odd beast master even said, in his own words, that whatever expertise he could offer the boy, it was his. All said in some manner of rhyme the teen human wouldn't even try to reiterate.

This all happened about… "_Six_ months ago? Last winter?" Roughly then. Something about a cold-blooded creature being awake at such a time. Zatouji mentioned it once or twice on its unusualness. Hydras were often found in more tropical areas, and otherwise only moved at times in strictly warmer temperatures.

The time seemed to make Rias blink. "Six months? For real?" Naruto nodded. "Huh. I…I was not aware." Rias seemed off put by the answer. Whatever the reason for, who was to say.

"Naruto," Sona spoke up again. It would seem the two Kings had become the voices for their tired and tried Peerages, "are you certain he will accept us both? I would rather not aggravate a man so privileged with misconceptions of the value on his 'favor'." Piss off a man of such respected authority in a field of valued worth? That would not do well, and Sona spoke for her Peerage and her family too.

Naruto seemed to be getting more than a few looks which asked if this was fine and possible. Asia, the poor girl, did seem still very confused on the whole escapade about today and the Familiar Master in general, but politely kept her peace to the side.

The human only smiled.

"Positive," his confidence was always striking. "I'll keep this brief: meet back here, tomorrow night, seven. Rias, Sona, you guys handle how we're getting to the forest. Tell me if there are any problems. I'll start thinking on a few places I think you'd like to look into. Prime Familiar locations. Saji, by the end of tomorrow, you'll almost forgive me for the finger-butt thing, I swear."

"Fuck you, there aren't enough familiars in the world to fix that!"

"Meh, worth a shot. See ya!"

"Hold it right there, mister!"

Rias stopped him dead in his tracks. One thing he learned in his years as a member of House Gremory was not to fight against Rias when she was trying to get your attention. Bad lesson learned once, by accident, and never again.

"Yeah?"

"Six months. _Six months_. Are you telling me you had this favor for six months? A deal conveniently for us that you just mention it today? Is that right?"

"Yep."

Rias went quiet for a moment. A long moment. Naruto stared to her, practically seeing the gears formulating some deep, complicated idea behind them. "I can't believe this. You. I can't – you set up this whole thing…so far…to win in such an underhanded way. To play us into fighting the other. To take us all on and _completely_ decimate our Peerages through means I can't even begin to say for sake of my pride. And you, you _knew_ how to settle us before we even started." Some manner of dawning, horrible revelation took hold of the Gremory King. "You had us. Had us before even the game began. You weren't even tired on the day you mentioned it, were you? You didn't forget to tell me about Sona – was that planned too? Some sort of easing us in? So that no one would suspect you of such deceitful means and your tricks…" Her bottom lip quivered. Eyes wide and staring at her nephew. A mixture of emotions; surprise, above all, mixed in with admiration to his supposed cunning and prowess. So like a Devil…

Sona listened to her friend. Her head lowering in thought. "You let us think we had you," she whispered. "To think that Saji-san could actually manage to take a bell from you. I, I remember…you supported him. Told me he would make a good member. You _wanted _him here," A smooth hand went through her hair. Then to her lips. They began to quiver as an odd smile crossed them. "So far into the future. Our competitions. Our members. This place where we'd fight. How we might move and attack. You saw it all. And we, we were like children…" She seemed rather flustered by the idea. "You had this handled before we even knew, didn't you?"

Every Devil stared between the Kings and Naruto. Such a declaration. Such an idea that Naruto, a human, could be so…so…

It had to be impossible. It must have been.

But both Kings appeared to be so absolute in their certainty. So sure that…well, a lingering passable idea of just maybe…was it…?

All eyes were to the teen. He stared back for a long, tense moment. A man who portrayed to them all in the last few hours as a figure of cunning, ability, strategy, artistry, and now possible brilliance. To put a light into their minds that this simple figure might have been far and beyond anything they might have suspected. Powers and abilities and the drive to defeat their weakened states was one thing, but to have it all so determined? Preordained? Inevitable?

The thought was almost chilling for some.

Naruto, for his part, listened to every word his two friends said. His face kept straight and with hardly so much as an expressive twitch.

"Sure."

He offered with a last, half-efforted shrug before turning for home.

"Why not?"

* * *

**Yeah, so I decided to stop the 'f%$k' thing and just say the word. P****eople apparently get antsy seeing it. **

**So, screw it. Normal F-words, it is!**

**Also, just uploaded _two_ new stories! Expanding my horizons on writing! Different subjects! See if I have it in me beyond my fandom of simply Naruto!**

**If you are a fan of Sword Art Online, RWBY, Kingdom Hearts, League of Legends, Video Games in general and my style of writing, please be sure to check them out! **

**Titles: _Two Brothers_ and _Heart of an Arc._ **

**I would love to hear feedback on them and if you'd like me to write on them some more. ****And, I know, they're terrible titles, but I work with what I can imagine.**

**Hope this chapter was fun for you! Till next time!**


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